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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130338">Landslide</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiscyarika/pseuds/hiscyarika'>hiscyarika</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Narcos (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Usage, Angst, Drunkenness, Enemies to Lovers, Ex-Fianceé!Reader, F/M, Lots of Angst, Mentions of Violence, Non-Explicit Sex, Nondescriptive Sexual Content, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post Escobar, Pre Cali Cartel, writer!reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:14:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,459</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130338</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiscyarika/pseuds/hiscyarika</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been ten years since Javier left her on their wedding day, fleeing to Colombia without a word. And now they’ve both returned to Laredo, forced to face each other for the first time since. But things have changed. The years of silence and loneliness have only driven them further apart. The question is whether or not the rift can be mended.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Javier Peña &amp; Reader, Javier Peña/Reader, Javier Peña/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ten years after leaving her on their wedding day, Javier returns to Laredo and runs into Reader.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>No amount of time will ever change Laredo.</p><p>Stubborn as a mule, it refuses to move forward with the rest of the world. Some people, like you, come and go, but the vast majority stands still—a moment frozen in time. You’ve spent years trying to escape this place, but when inevitably you’re forced to return, everything is just the way that you left it: down even to the sharp creak in the door as you enter the mini market in town.</p><p>It’s still owned by the same family. You smile and wave at Anita Robinson from where she stands at the register, refilling the machine with a new roll of receipt paper. She’s an older woman, with a son your age and a daughter just a couple of years younger. Just like everyone else in this town, you’ve known her since you were little. Her eyes light up as she looks up to give an automatic greeting, and even from your distance you can see the crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes. For just a moment, she abandons the task at hand. “Well look who’s back! How have you been, honey?,” she asks, her deep Texas accent bleeding into every word.</p><p>You pick up one of the wicker baskets from the bin by the door, carrying it with you down the first aisle. The shelves are short enough that you can still see Mrs. Robinson as you start your quick grocery run. “I’ve been alright. I’m back in town for a while until I can find another publisher,” you explain briefly.</p><p>She shakes her head, picking up the receipt paper again. “Oh, sweetie. That’s too bad. Where were you this time? I think your dad said something about Seattle, but I can’t quite remember,” she replies. You can’t help the way that your smile falls to a more gentle expression at her words. Anita has always been a sweet woman, beloved by everyone she’s ever met.</p><p>“Yeah. I was in Seattle. But it’s alright. I’ve already contacted some other people. Hopefully things will pan out this time. How are Will and Sadie?,” you ask.</p><p>She closes the compartment on the register, laughing softly. “Oh, they’re both doing great. Sadie and Jason got married a few months ago. Then Katie and Will just had their first baby. I’m a grandmama now.” She beams, and you glance up from the jar of peanut butter you’d just placed in the basket to see her pulling out a couple of photos. “But I’ll quit pestering you for now and show you when you’re done,” she laughs, leaning with her side against the counter.</p><p>“Alright,” you reply, giving a soft laugh.</p><p>With nothing to distract you, you make your way a little faster down the aisles, going over your mental shopping list while muttering things to yourself under your breath. You’re so lost in your own little world that you don’t hear the bell over the door ring as another customer walks in, and you don’t notice the soft gasp that escapes Anita’s lips when she sees who it is.</p><p>A thought strikes you, and you realize that you’ve passed the taco seasoning. You turn quickly on your heels and take a step forward in what is nearly a single fluid movement, but collide with the broad chest of the man who’d been standing not too far behind you. You immediately step back and begin to apologize, but then your eyes meet his gaze. You go silent, save for the sharp gasp that leaves you as the breath is sucked from your lungs.</p><p>“Javi?”</p><p>Your blood is pounding so hard in your ears that you see your name formed on his lips but you don’t hear his voice. Every thought leaves your head as you try to form words again. But the effort is futile. You take another step back, putting more distance between the two of you. A glance in the direction of the counter shows that Anita is gone. Whether that’s to escape this awkward reunion or to go tell the rest of the town about it, you can’t be sure.</p><p>When you look back, Javier’s face has morphed from shock to a softer expression that you don’t have a name for. It’s somewhere between sadness and grief. Regret, maybe, though even that doesn’t feel quite right. But you hate the way that his gaze has softened, his eyes looking down at you like he deserves to feel <em>anything</em> as intensely as you do.</p><p>Your shock is quickly replaced by anger, and a hurt that you’ve never managed to fully extinguish.</p><p>“It’s…It’s been a while,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. It’s a poor choice of first words, so appalling that you have to hold back a bitter laugh as it bubbles up in your chest.</p><p>“Ten years <em>does </em>seem pretty long when you don’t bother trying to contact someone, doesn’t it?,” you seethe.</p><p>Regret is written clearly across his features now, but that’s no matter to you. “Querida, I–”</p><p>“Fuck <em>off, </em>Javier.” You cut him off before he can even begin whatever apology he might have come up with. You don’t want to hear it. You want nothing to do with him. Not anymore.</p><p>You push your way past him in the narrow walkway, returning the items in your basket to their places on the shelf. As much as you want to just drop the basket and walk out the door, you won’t leave it for Anita to deal with. You don’t hear Javier’s footsteps behind you, and for a moment you think maybe he’s smart enough not to pursue you any further. But just as you drop the wicker basket back in the bin, his hand wraps around your arm. He gently pulls you back towards him.</p><p>You whip around, pushing hard at his chest and yanking your arm from his grasp. His touch triggers a switch from flight to fight. “Don’t,” you warn, your eyes burning. You feel the heat of your anger flooding your body, the fury making you tremble. He doesn’t try to grab you again.</p><p>“Just let me talk to you, damn it,” he demands, his hands placed firmly on his hips.</p><p>Now you laugh. It’s humorless. “Oh <em>now </em>you want to talk? Well that’s too damn bad.”</p><p>He huffs out a sigh of frustration. “I need you to understand wh–”</p><p>“To hell with what <em>you need, </em>Javier. Your needs stopped being my concern when you left me on our fucking wedding day. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should be going,” you bite back. Without letting him have the last word, you walk out of the mini mart, back into the relentless Texas heat. Paired with your anger, it makes your skin feel like it’s being prodded by thousands of tiny needles.</p><p>You don’t look behind you. You don’t want to see Javier looking at you through the glass pane of the door. How he managed to come home to Laredo without you hearing about it is beyond you, but it would have been nice to know that he was back. It would have at least given you <em>some time </em>to mentally prepare yourself for the moment that you might see him again. Now you just feel jarred, out of place. Like your soul was taken from your body to watch all of this happen.</p><p>You try to take in a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth. But your lips tremble as you exhale and your vision blurs with a new wave of tears. You force yourself to move forward, one foot in front of the other. With your mind in overdrive and your body on autopilot, you somehow make your way back to your apartment without losing your way.</p><p>By the time you make it to the front door, your tears have broken free, flowing down your cheeks. Your breath comes out in sharp gasps, and your hands shake as you take out your small ring of keys. They fall to the ground from your weak grasp, and you curse under your breath as you bend down to pick them up again. You force the apartment key into the lock, turning it and opening the door.</p><p>You all but collapse as you make it through the doorway, dropping the keys and falling back against the door as it shuts behind you. A gut-wrenching sob claws its way out of your throat, and despite your efforts to stifle it with your hand over your mouth, it’s no use. You shut your eyes tightly, sinking to the ground with your back against the door.</p><p>His face. His voice. You’ve worked so hard to leave them behind, to let him go. After so many years it felt like you had finally buried him in your past, never to be found again. And just like that, all of the pain and hurt and heartbreak has been dug up and hauled out for you to bear once more. To bear <em>alone. </em>This isn’t something that you’ll burden your parents with. You don’t want them to worry about you. You’re not a lovesick, heartbroken young woman anymore. You’ve changed and grown. You can handle this, no matter how difficult it might be. </p><p>Mind clouded by the agony of raw emotion, you push yourself up from the floor, walking back to your bedroom and throwing the door open. You drag a suitcase out from under the bed, tossing it onto the mattress. A new resolve takes over you, and you start throwing things into the suitcase. You can’t stay here. There’s not enough room in Laredo for your grief and Javier both. And if it means you’ll never see him again, you’ll leave tonight.</p><p>You raid your drawers and your closet, throwing in random articles of clothing. Every movement is frenzied. In the back of your mind, you make sure that there is at least one professional outfit, knowing that you’ll need it for meeting with publishers should you ever get a call.</p><p>That in mind, you go to your desk next, pulling out the typed up manuscripts and outline journals. In the height of your fury, hot tears leak from your eyes. Though they go unnoticed by you. The only thing you can think about is leaving. The more miles between you and Javier, the better. You’ll drive as long as it takes for the distance to soothe the throbbing in your chest.</p><p>When there’s no more room in the suitcase, you put all of your weight into keeping it closed as you zip it up. You curse at the strain, but you’re too determined to make this any easier on yourself by packing a second bag. By the time you do get it closed, your energy is spent.</p><p>You grip the edges of the mattress until your knuckles turn white, finally beginning the descent from your hysterics. As you come down, you go quiet again. Your chest no longer heaves with labored breaths. No sound falls from your lips. Your tears have lessened, but still fall silently from your eyes. Exhaustion seeps into every part of your body, a bone-deep ache from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.</p><p>You crawl onto your bed, not bothering to move the suitcase or bury yourself under the covers. You lay your head down on your pillow as it begins to throb, the aftermath of your emotional release coupled with the never ending thoughts of the man that so easily erased any healing you’d managed to do in the last decade. The pillow is soon wet and stained with black mascara tears. But at least now you can think a little more clearly.</p><p>And as much as you hate it, you know that you can’t leave.</p><p>There’s nowhere for you to go. The whole point of coming back home was to have a place to stay until you could get another meeting lined up and save up some more money. More importantly, you can’t—you <em>won’t</em>—give Javier this power over you. You won’t let him be the reason that you uproot yourself before you’re ready. He’s the one that left town. He doesn’t get to be the one to drive you away.</p><p>Mind made up, you sink a little further into the mattress, groaning softly as the movement disturbs your aching body. Before you can fall asleep though, your eyes catch a glimpse of a piece of cardstock lying on the floor beside the bed. You sigh when you realize that it’s an invitation to Danny’s wedding, which you’ve already committed to attending, and it’s in just a few days’ time.  </p><p>Javier will be there. That you’re absolutely certain of.</p><p>But you’ll go anyway, because you could never disappoint the Peñas with your absence. Despite the fact that you never officially married into the family, they’ve always treated you like you were one of them regardless. And for that you’re grateful. They could have turned their backs on you the moment that Javier skipped town. Instead, they chose to hold you that much closer to their hearts. And you’ve done the same with them.</p><p>For their sake, you can endure being in the same room as Javier.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reader attends Danny’s wedding. Javier tries again to make amends.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Spanish translations are included at the end of the chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You wake with the sun as it shines through your curtains, a thin stream of light that so unfortunately hits you right in the eyes. With a soft groan, you rub the sleep from your eyes and roll from your side onto your back. Your foot knocks against something heavy, and you startle as it falls to the ground with a loud thud. Your suitcase.<b><br/>
</b></p><p>“Fuck,” you curse, letting out a huff of air.</p><p>After giving yourself a few more seconds to just lie there, you push yourself up and out of bed. The ache from last night lingers still, making any movement just a bit more difficult. Your sleep, though deep and dreamless, was still not quite enough to fend off the physical exhaustion of dealing with your own emotions. But you won’t allow yourself to lie in bed all day wallowing in your own self-pity.</p><p>Once you’re standing, you look down at the packed suitcase on the floor, scowling at it for just a second. It needs to be unpacked and everything needs to go back to its place, but you elect to leave it for later. Instead, you trudge out of your room and into the bathroom just down the hall. You hope that maybe a shower will loosen up your muscles and give you the energy that you need for the day.</p><p>You flip the light on, shaking your head as you catch sight of yourself in the mirror above the sink. There’s dried mascara down your cheeks and all around your eyes. Your hair is tangled and sticking out at odd angles. To call your appearance haggard would be kind.</p><p>You sigh softly and turn around. The rings of the shower curtain scrape across the metal rod as you pull it closed. You wince at the sound, reaching in and turning on the hot water. While the water heats up, you undress yourself, leaving your clothes in a heap on the floor. You’ll worry about getting the apartment cleaned up once you’ve washed away the remnants of last night.</p><p>By the time you step into the shower, the heat is already starting to fog up the mirror. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you step under the hot spray. Already you can feel the tension seeping out of your body, flowing down the drain with the water. You close your eyes, giving yourself this moment to unwind. It’s the least you can afford yourself after seeing Javier again.</p><p>You reach out with one hand, bracing yourself against the shower wall as your encounter with him from yesterday plays back in your mind. The same panic begins to creep into your chest, but is soon replaced by anger.  <em>“It’s…It’s been a while,”</em> he’d said. It makes your blood boil. Ten years and that was the only thing he could think to say to you. And then he’d had the nerve to call you <em>querida</em>, as if you’d still be his sweetheart after what he’d done.</p><p>You’ll see him at the wedding. It’s a bitter truth that you have to come to terms with and a troubling thought you would rather not dwell on. If it weren’t a Peña family wedding, you would just stay home. But no matter how much you hate the idea of being around Javier and subjecting yourself to the gossip that will inevitably follow, you won’t neglect such an important occasion.</p><p>You stand up straight again when you feel the water beginning to cool, and you make relatively quick work of getting yourself cleaned up. After shutting off the water, you pull the curtain back and step out of the shower, wrapping yourself in the towel hanging over the bar on the wall. You feel better, lighter now that you’ve gotten to freshen up and rouse yourself.</p><p>Damp feet padding gently across the floor, you go back to your bedroom, dressing yourself in a pair of jeans and a shirt, something comfortable enough to wear while you do some work around the apartment. You then haul the suitcase back onto your bed and unzip it. The clothes and other various items you’d stuffed in there come almost spilling out and you shake your head.</p><p>You start with your clothes, hanging your shirts back up and folding other garments to be put back in their respective drawers. Once that’s done, you take another pile of things to be put back in your desk. Before long, the suitcase is empty and stored back underneath your bed.</p><p>Now that you’ve given yourself a place to start, you carry on putting your bedroom back together. As things return to their rightful places, you find yourself oddly soothed. It’s calming to restore order in any way that you can.</p><p>This is one thing that you have complete control over.</p><p>—</p><p>Javier sits on the back porch steps of his father’s house, sipping silently at the beer in his hand. It’s barely the afternoon, but he doesn’t care. He hardly slept last night, and what little sleep he did get was restless, plagued by the images of your face twisted in anger and the sound of your voice, a clear warning to him as if the look in your eyes hadn’t been enough. He knows he screwed up—in more ways than one. But when brought face-to-face with you again for the first time since he left, his mind went blank. He’d said the first words that came to him, though they were just about the worst thing he could have come up with.</p><p>Behind him, the door opens and shuts again, and the wooden boards creak beneath his father’s footsteps. “¿Estás bien, mijo? Has estado muy callado hoy,” Chucho says, and Javier doesn’t even turn to face the older man as he speaks. Instead, he takes another long sip from the bottle in his hand.</p><p>“No me dijiste que estaba en pueblo,” he answers flatly.</p><p>Chucho sighs, settling himself in his rocking chair. “No ha estado de regreso por mucho tiempo. She got rejected from a publisher in Washington,” he answers gently.</p><p>Javier shakes his head. He’d once held the privilege of being able to read the things you wrote. Back then, he didn’t see how you would ever struggle to be a published author, and he’s sure that through the years you’ve only improved upon your writing skills. “Yo la ví, Papá.” She…She hates me,” he finally breathes, and he feels his chest swelling with a grief he knows he shouldn’t feel. You have every right to hate him. It’s his own fault.</p><p>“¿Hablaste con ella?,” his father asks.</p><p>Javier hangs his head, putting his beer down on the step. “No me dejó hablar con ella. Lo intenté.“ Part of him wishes that he would have followed you out of Anita’s store, but he knows that wouldn’t have ended well.</p><p>“Ella estará en la boda de Danny,” Chucho says, and Javier’s head snaps up. He turns to look at his father in disbelief. Surely you won’t show up now, not when you know that he’s in town. You want nothing to do with him. You’ve made that abundantly clear and Javier doesn’t blame you for even a second. “Tal vez ella va a hablar contigo entonces,” his father continues.</p><p>Javier is quiet for a moment. He considers what might happen if he were to approach you. The last thing he wants to do is cause a scene, but like he told you, he <em>needs</em> you to understand what happened all those years ago. Even if it doesn’t change anything, you still deserve to know why he left you the way he did.</p><p>“Eso espero,” he whispers, taking another long drink from his beer and wishing that it were something much stronger.</p><p>—</p><p>You suck in a deep breath as you walk up the front stairs of the little white church. As you step inside, you realize that you haven’t been here since your own wedding, not even for a regular church service. It’s almost unnerving to be back, but you brush off your own discomfort. The ceremony won’t be long.</p><p>You pause in the foyer for just a moment, looking back down the hall where the dressing room is. You know Danny’s bride is back there, preparing for one of the best days of her life. Just like you had been so many years ago. The only comfort you find is knowing that today won’t end with the same heartbreak.</p><p>Before you can dwell on it any longer, you feel a gentle, warm hand on your shoulder. A genuine smile graces your lips as you turn and see Javier’s father.</p><p>“Mijita,” he greets you, pulling you into a gentle hug. You close your eyes for a moment, suddenly feeling much more calm than you had just seconds ago. Chucho has always been soothing that way, ever since you and Javier were just little kids running around on the ranch. You’ve always felt safe with him.</p><p>“How have you been, Pops? I haven’t seen you in forever,” you say, your smiling brightening at the fatherly kiss he pecks to your cheek. He releases you then, reaching up to straighten the signature Stetson that he wears.</p><p>His hands go to his hips as he stands in front of you. It’s no secret where Javier picked the habit up from. “I’ve been just fine, mijita. I was sorry to hear about the publisher in Seattle,” he replies. You feel a bit of heat come to your cheeks then. It never ceases to amaze you just how many people your parents manage to tell about your shortcomings with your novels.</p><p>You shake your head, letting out a soft breath. “It’s alright. It just meant I got to come back home. It’s nice to see everyone here,” you tell him, and you mean it. You’ve always enjoyed being around for Peña family events. There’s never a dull moment and you always seem to have the best time.</p><p>Chucho nods in agreement, though his expression softens. There’s compassion in his eyes as he looks into yours. “We’re all happy you’re here. It means a lot that you came,” he says. He then takes one of your hands in both of his. “I know it’s not easy…being in this place and having him back home.”</p><p>“Did he tell you we ran into each other?,” you whisper, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Javier is standing right outside the door, talking to his aunt.</p><p>“He told me he saw you, and that you wouldn’t let him talk to you,” Chucho replies, though his tone is still gentle, not at all scolding you for the reaction you’d had.</p><p>Your gaze falls to the floor. You don’t know how much you want to tell Chucho, even though you know he’d never say a word to Javier about any of it if you didn’t want him to. “I just… Pops, I can’t…” You trail off, knowing that now is not the time to explore your feelings about seeing Javier again.</p><p>Chucho squeezes your hand gently, shaking his head. “You don’t have to explain to me, mijita. I understand. Just…know that he wants to make things right. Even if the only thing he can do is explain himself,” he tells you. The words send a pang through your chest. You’re still not ready to hear that explanation. You’ve spent ten years trying to come up with a reason for Javier to abandon you. And even after so long, you don’t think your heart has prepared itself for the truth.</p><p>He must see the panic welling up in your eyes. “You don’t have to do anything that you’re not ready to. It’s alright,” he assures you.</p><p>Luckily, music begins to float into the foyer from the sanctuary, saving you from having to say much else. “You’re right,” you breathe. “But that’s something to worry about later,” you say, forcing a smile. Chucho lets go of your hands then, allowing you to follow the rest of the guests that have begun to file into the other room.</p><p>“Thank you,” you tell him.</p><p>He just smiles and tips his hat.</p><p>—</p><p>The wedding was a beautiful, quiet affair. You’re glad that you went, despite having every reason not to. It was good for you to see that happy endings still exist, even if you haven’t managed to get to your own quite yet.</p><p>There’s a small group of guests that make the short walk to the reception hall together. You join them, conversing about the ceremony and all the lovely details. Each breath comes a little easier than the last as you distance yourself from the church. By the time you do make it to the reception hall, you’re ready to have a good time. And so long as the Peñas are involved, you know that you will.</p><p>You step inside the building, feeling a rush of cool air wash over you. The air conditioning is a welcome change to the outside heat wave. The festivities have already begun, and you smile when you see everyone dancing and mingling and enjoying the good food that Javier’s aunts had most certainly spent forever making. You head over to the long stretch of tables yourself, your stomach rumbling in anticipation.</p><p>As you fill your plate, you chat with another one of the cousins, Luis, who moves down the opposite side, briefly catching up with each other. There’s not a single mention of Javier, which you’re grateful for. Luis invites you to sit at the same table as his family, and you follow, taking a seat next to his young boy.</p><p>Not long after you sit, however, you begin to feel a pair of eyes on your back. You don’t have to look behind you to know that it’s Javier. You’d made a point to sit far behind him and Chucho at the wedding, but there is no escape from his gaze here.</p><p>For a short while, you’re able to sit peacefully and ignore Javier’s stare burning into your back. But the feeling is unrelenting, and though you try to keep a conversation with Luis and his wife, it’s not enough to distract you forever. Eventually, you stand from the table, excusing yourself. You take your plate over to one of the trash cans, disposing of it before you head for the door, just needing a moment to clear your head.</p><p>You finally steal a glance in Javier’s direction. Sure enough, his eyes are trained on you.</p><p>You turn your back on him immediately, heading out the same door you entered from.</p><p>The sun hits right in your face as you step outside. To escape the heat, you go down the walkway to the corner of the building where the shade tree is. You find immediate relief under the broad green leaves.</p><p>You take in a deep breath, but just before you can let it all out, you hear him call your name.</p><p>“Goddamn it,” you mutter to yourself.</p><p>You turn around to watch as Javier walks towards you. There’s no hesitation in his steps, but you do see apprehension in his eyes as he comes closer. He stops just a few feet away from you, his hands on his hips as he looks at you.</p><p>“Don’t do this here, Javier,” you warn. “Go back inside and enjoy your cousin’s wedding reception.”</p><p>He narrows his eyes. “What? Are we both supposed to just pretend that the other doesn’t exist while you mingle with my family?,” he asks. You feel your anger spike at his words.</p><p>You take a quick step forward, your finger pointed at his chest. <em>“Watch it, Peña. </em>Just because we never got married doesn’t mean that they’re not my family too. They’ve certainly been more present in my life than <em>you have,”</em> you seethe, appalled that he would even insinuate that you aren’t just as much part of the family as he is.</p><p>He huffs in frustration, raking his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. That wasn’t…That wasn’t what I meant,” he sighs. “I just meant that we can’t keep doing this. You won’t even look at me.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, did you ever think that maybe I don’t <em>want</em> to?,” you retort.</p><p>“Can we please just talk about this?,” he pleads.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>
  <em>“Why?”</em>
</p><p>“Because I don’t <em>care anymore</em>, Javi. We’re just another notch on each other’s bedposts, okay?” It’s a lie. Every word is a lie that burns on its way out, but you have to tell him something—anything—that will get him to leave you alone and go back inside.</p><p>He laughs bitterly. He can see right through you. He’s always been able to. “That’s a fucking lie and you know it. You wouldn’t act like this if you didn’t care,” he bites back.</p><p>“Please just go back inside,” you say, your voice dropping to a near-whisper. Your tone suddenly lacks any force as you lose the will to keep this argument going.</p><p>His arms drop loosely to his sides. His shoulders fall from where they’d been so tense and straight. “Lo siento,” he breathes, bringing one hand up to grip his shoulder for a moment. “I’ll go,” he murmurs, turning around and heading back into the reception hall.</p><p>You turn away from the building, closing your eyes for a moment to fend off another wave of emotions. This isn’t the time or the place for it.</p><p>After you’ve composed yourself, you too return to the festivities. But when you walk back inside, you notice that mixed in with the music and laughter, there are a lot of glances in your direction followed by hushed whispers. Many others look between you and Javier as they talk amongst themselves. You already know what they’re saying. They’ve been saying a lot of the same things for ten years. Your wedding day went down infamously in Laredo’s history.</p><p>It takes you just a second to decide that it’s time for you to go. You won’t take the attention away from Danny and his new bride. Your eyes search the room for Chucho, and you let out a soft breath of relief when you see that Javier is not with him.</p><p>He stands as you walk over to him. Just like Javier, he can read you like a book. “I’m sorry he upset you, mijita,” he says, but you shake your head. You won’t have Chucho apologizing for Javier’s behavior or the emotions that you feel so intensely.</p><p>“I’m just gonna go, Pops. Give the bride and groom my love for me,” you reply.</p><p>Chucho smiles sadly at you, but nods in understanding. He takes his thumb, gently lifting your chin so that you’re looking him straight in the eye. “Always keep your head up, mijita,” he murmurs soothingly.</p><p>His words cause tears to spring to your eyes, but you manage a smile for his sake. “Te quiero, Pops,” you whisper.</p><p>“Te quiero <em>mucho</em>, my girl,” he tells you.</p><p>—</p><p>Javier is silent as he sits in the passenger seat of his father’s truck, his elbow against the door and his head leaning against his closed fist. It’s dark now, and he chooses to focus on the beams of the headlights on the road. He can feel his father’s gentle gaze every few seconds. It’s only a matter of time before he speaks.</p><p>“I already know what you’re going to say,” Javier finally says, relenting to his father’s silent pressing. He’s tired. He doesn’t really have the energy for this conversation, but it’ll happen anyway even if he doesn’t initiate it.</p><p>“No you don’t,” Chucho replies. He turns down a dead-end road, one that Javier recognizes all-too-well. He’s not at all surprised when the truck comes to a stop. Javier sighs, settling further back into the seat and turning to look the older man in the eye.</p><p>“No sé qué hacer. No quiere hablar conmigo,” he admits. He closes his eyes, running a hand roughly down his face.</p><p>“La lastimaste, Javier.”</p><p>“Lo sé, Papá.”</p><p>“No,” he says more forcefully, “no sabes.”</p><p>“Well maybe if she’d talk to me I would understand,” Javier snaps, though he immediately regrets the short loss of his temper. He knows that his father doesn’t mean to anger him.</p><p>Chucho sighs. “She’s spent so long trying to forget. And here you are, when she leasts expects it. And the first thing you do is demand to talk to her.”</p><p>“You <em>told me</em> to talk to her,” Javier counters.</p><p>“No. I said maybe<em> she</em> would talk to <em>you.”</em> He sighs at the correction, knowing that there is certainly a difference.</p><p>Javier huffs softly, shaking his head. “Well, we both know that’s not going to happen.” He has no faith that he’ll ever be able to fix things with you, no matter how much he wants to.</p><p>“Ten years is a long time, my son. What you did…time couldn’t heal that. I’ll never forget that day as long as I live…,” his father starts, and Javier feels his chest constrict as his father trails off. He’s gone this long without knowing what happened the day he left. He doesn’t want to hear about it now.</p><p>“Por favor, Papá. No lo hagas,” he pleads.</p><p>Chucho pays him no mind, continuing anyway. “I was the one to tell her you were gone. And at that time I didn’t know that you had left for Colombia. I wouldn’t find that out until I got back to the house that night. I held her while she cried, Javier. While she sobbed and begged to know what she’d done to make you leave.” There’s a sad, wistful look in the old man’s eyes as he relives the memory.</p><p>Javier is quiet for some time, letting the words sink into his heart and pull him down in that dark state of mind he’s known too well since the day he left Laredo. He doesn’t want to think about you that way. He doesn’t want to imagine you in that kind of pain, especially not the pain that he caused you. It’s too much for him to bear.</p><p>“Ella nunca me va a perdonar por eso.” His words are hardly audible. He hangs his head, looking down at the floorboards of the truck.</p><p>His father shrugs. “Ella podría. These things take time, Javier. You can’t expect it to be better overnight,” Chucho replies, offering some hope even when mending the rift seems like a hopeless endeavor.</p><p>Javier crosses his arms over his chest, not believing that there is any chance. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be gone soon, anyway, and then she won’t have to worry about it.” He looks out the front of the truck then, watching the trees sway gently in the night wind.</p><p>“Ah, si. Huyendo de vuelta a Colombia,” his father muses.</p><p>“No estoy huyendo,” Javier shoots back defensively. He sits up straight in his seat again, his shoulders squared.</p><p>“Tal vez no, pero lo estás usando como un escape.” As much as he wants to, he can’t deny his father’s words. He’s right, just like he always is.</p><p>“We have to take down Cali,” he responds instead.</p><p>Chucho shakes his head, putting a gentle hand on Javier’s shoulder. It makes him relax just the slightest bit. “Eso no es una vida, mijo. Colombia ya te ha cambiado lo suficiente. Tú no eres el hombre que eras antes de irte,” he says.</p><p>He’s right about that too, but Javier would rather stare death in the face a thousand times than see the hurt in your eyes once more.</p><p>“Yo sé,” he whispers.</p><p>-</p><p>
  <b>Spanish Translations</b>
</p><p>“¿Estás bien, mijo? Has estado muy callado hoy.” - “<em>Are you alright, son? You’ve been very quiet today.”</em></p><p>“No me dijiste que estaba en pueblo.” - <em>“You didn’t tell me she was in town.”</em></p><p>“No ha estado de regreso por mucho tiempo.” - <em>“She hasn’t been back for very long.”</em></p><p>"Yo la ví, Papá.” - <em>“I saw her, Dad.”</em></p><p>“¿Hablaste con ella?” - <em>“Did you talk to her?”</em></p><p>“No me dejó hablar con ella. Lo intenté.“ - <em>“She won’t let me talk to her. I tried.”</em></p><p>“Ella estará en la boda de Danny.” - <em>“She’ll be at Danny’s wedding.”</em></p><p>“Tal vez ella va a hablar contigo entonces.” - <em>“Maybe she’ll talk to you then.”</em></p><p>“Eso espero.” - <em>I hope so.</em></p><p>“Mijita” - <em>My daughter (nickname)</em></p><p>“Lo siento.” - <em>“I’m sorry.”</em></p><p>“No sé qué hacer. No quiere hablar conmigo.” - <em>“I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”</em></p><p>“La lastimaste, Javier.” - <em>“You hurt her, Javier.”</em></p><p>“Lo sé, Papá.” - <em>“I know, Dad.”</em></p><p>“No…no sabes.” - <em>“No, you don’t (know).”</em></p><p>“Por favor, Papá. No lo hagas.” - <em>“Please, Dad. Don’t do this.”</em></p><p>“Ella nunca me va a perdonar por eso.” - <em>“She’ll never forgive me for that.”</em></p><p>“Ah, si. Huyendo de vuelta a Colombia.” - <em>“Ah, right. Running back to Colombia.”</em></p><p>“No estoy huyendo.” -<em> “I’m not running.”</em></p><p>“Tal vez no, pero lo estás usando como un escape.” - <em>“Maybe not, but you are using it as an escape.”</em></p><p>“Eso no es una vida, mijo. Colombia ya te ha cambiado lo suficiente. Tú no eres el hombre que eras antes de irte.” - <em>“That’s no life, my son. Colombia has changed you enough already. You are not the man you were before you left.”</em></p><p>“Yo sé.” - <em>“I know.”</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reader revisits the life that she and Javier once shared together. Javier seeks to escape his father’s haunting words.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Spanish translations are included at the end of the chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You shake your head as your mother brings over <em>another</em> box of old junk to sort through. “Mom, promise me you’ll never hoard things like this again,” you tease, chuckling softly and rolling your eyes. You then take a seat next to her on the floor of the attic, ready to help her sort through the items.<b><br/>
</b></p><p>“Now you just listen,” she starts, “Some of this stuff can make us a few bucks in the community yard sale.”</p><p>“You’re gonna need your own entire <em>estate sale</em> to get rid of all this,” you reply, pulling out the heavy case at the top of the box. It immediately catches your eye, and you laugh as you realize what it is. “I think everything in here is mine,” you tell her, beginning to unzip the aged leather case.</p><p>Your mother searches the surface of the cardboard box, looking up at you again when she finds what she’s looking for. “Ah, yes!,” she confirms, “This is some of the stuff we boxed up after you left for San Antonio, when you were working as a secretary for that law firm.”</p><p>You open the case, smiling when you see the old typewriter it holds. Dust covers every inch of the little machine, and you giggle softly as you press down on a few of the keys, causing the strikers to shoot up, though there’s no paper for them to mark. “I remember when I got this. It was the first one I had for myself. Dad was so happy I wasn’t using his all the time.” You zip up the case and set it aside. The task of cleaning things out for the yard sale has been forgotten.</p><p>“Oh, yes. He would gripe at me all the time, telling me you needed to quit using all of his paper and ink,” your mother tells you, laughing right along with you. She reaches into the box next, pulling out a rather large photo album. She puts it on the floor between you, and you feel a light blush come to your cheeks as she starts to go through all of the pictures she has from your childhood. You remember well that she always had her camera out. She never wanted to miss the opportunity to capture a memory, no matter how silly it might have seemed in the moment.</p><p>The two of you go on that way for some time, flipping through the pages of the album. You listen to her as she tells you the stories behind many of the pictures, from times that you were too young to remember. It’s nice, being able to indulge in more lighthearted nostalgia–certainly a welcome change from the more painful memories that you’ve been forced to relive in the last couple of weeks.</p><p>Once you’ve gone through the photo album, you continue to pull random things from the box. More long-forgotten trinkets from your teen and college years. It’s nearly an hour later that you make it to the bottom, where you find one last treasure. It’s a shoebox, though as you lift it, you’re not sure what it contains. It’s only when you bring it closer to you that you can read the words on the lid.</p><p>
  <em>Javier - Mi Corazón</em>
</p><p>You stare at those three words for what feels like a lifetime. They’re written in your elegant handwriting with a thick black marker. You lightly trace the flourished “J” of his name with your finger. You remember the day you put it all together, and you know already a bit of what you’ll find when you open the box.</p><p>Your breath hitches in your throat, and at your silence your mother leans closer. She frowns when she too reads what’s on the box. “Give that here, love. I’ll put it away. I’m sorry. I forgot I packed it away in here with everything else,” she says quickly, her tone soft and sorrowful. But you only tighten your hold on the box as she tries to take it from you.</p><p>“No,” you tell her, “I want to look at it.” Logically, you know that you’ll only cause yourself more pain by looking through the memories of what your life used to look like with Javier, but you can’t stop yourself. You’ve spent ten years keeping any memory of him locked away. And now that he’s back, there’s nothing you can do to stop the flood as that once young, hopeful life comes rushing back to you.</p><p>“Well,” your mother sighs softly, “if you’re sure.” You can tell that she doesn’t like the idea. Since the day Javier left, she and your father have been a little more detached than you ever were. They’ve never blamed the Peñas or sought to shame them. But where you’ve only grown closer to the family, your parents have drifted apart.</p><p>You nod. “I am,” you murmur.</p><p>—</p><p>The shoebox feels much heavier than it truly is as you step into your apartment with it. After dropping your keys on the coffee table in the living room, you go straight back to your bedroom. You close the door behind you, though you know that there won’t be anyone to walk in on you as you willingly subject yourself to more pain.</p><p>You gingerly place the box on your desk, staring at it for a few moments as you second guess yourself. It would be so much easier to tuck it somewhere deep into your closet where you won’t find it again, not unless you really want to. You could bury those memories, ones that should be sweet but have been soured by time and circumstance. You could bury your love. You could bury the painful reminders of the man you would have followed to the ends of the earth.</p><p>You sit down in the chair and make your choice.</p><p>You open the box.</p><p>A soft gasp escapes your lips as you look inside, and immediately you feel your chest swell with an emotion that sits somewhere between nostalgia and regret. You can’t place it exactly. Taking a deep breath, you gently lift the first thing from the box. Dried petals crinkle between your fingers as you hold up your corsage from senior prom.</p><p>
  <em>Your mother laughs softly as she walks over to you and Javier. He’s tried his best, but he just can’t get the ribbon tied around your wrist the right way. You giggle as your mother gently takes over, though as she ties the ribbon, your eyes never stray from Javi’s. You can see a light blush creeping up his neck, and you shake your head minutely. “It’s alright,” you mouth to him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When your mother finally steps away, Javi takes your hand again, pulling you closer to him so that more pictures can be taken. You both hate the fussing, but know that it’s better to just endure it for the sake of your parents. Your mothers, especially, are excited to see the two of you off to the dance. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Alright. Alright. That’s enough pestering the two of them. Let them go and enjoy their night,” Chucho finally says, and you let out a soft laugh. You can always trust him to come to the rescue. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thanks, Pops,” you say. Javier releases you then, giving you a moment to say a quick goodbye to your parents. Once you’ve given your mother a hug and your father a quick kiss on the cheek, you wave to Javi’s parents, then take his hand again. He leads you over to his father’s truck, which he’d so graciously agreed to let you borrow for the night. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Javi walks over to the passenger side with you, helping you up into the cab and making sure that your dress doesn’t get caught as the door is shut. He joins you inside of the truck shortly after, and you move a little closer to him on the bench seat. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sorry I couldn’t get the stupid corsage on,” he says, chuckling softly at himself. He lifts your arm, looking at the ribbon that your mother tied and shaking his head.  After a moment though, his eyes meet yours again, his gaze soft. Without breaking eye contact, he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “You look beautiful tonight, querida,” he murmurs shyly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You smile softly at him, reaching out to straighten his bow tie. “You’re looking pretty dashing yourself, Javi,” you reply. </em>
</p><p><em>He rolls his eyes. “I’m glad </em>you <em>think so. I think this looks ridiculous. There’s a reason I don’t dress like this unless I have to,” he says, though he’s grinning as he speaks. </em></p><p>
  <em>You press a quick kiss to his lips. “It’s just one night,” you tell him, “Now let’s go before we’re late.”</em>
</p><p>You let out a soft breath as you think about the rest of that night. The two of you hadn’t spent very long at the dance at all, opting instead to jump back into Chucho’s truck and drive somewhere more quiet. Rather than trying to enjoy yourselves in a dark, sweaty gymnasium filled with your classmates, Javier had driven to the top of a hill not far outside of town. With a perfect view of the softly illuminated town below you, the two of you slow danced for hours to one of the cassette tapes you’d found in the glovebox.</p><p>With a mirthless laugh, you wonder if the cassette tape is still there.</p><p>Setting the corsage aside, you look back into the box, pulling out a stolen menu from the diner just a couple of blocks from your childhood home. It was a place that you and Javier had frequented, especially during the late hours of the night when you didn’t have anything better to do than drink cheap milkshakes and steal french fries from each other’s plates.</p><p>
  <em>You curse under your breath as Javier foils your plans again, scribbling a quick “X” into the top right corner of the grid, keeping you from winning what was easily the eighth game of tic-tac-toe you’d played in the last twenty minutes. “Damn you, Javi,” you say, tossing the pencil at him, though there’s a grin on your lips as you look across the booth at him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Lo siento, querida. But you know you’re not allowed to win,” he replies, catching the pencil against his chest and placing it back on the table. His smile is bright as ever as his eyes meet yours again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You roll your eyes, picking up the pencil and pulling the menu closer to you. You write out a short note on it, then turn it around so Javi can read it.</em>
</p><p>You’re a pain in the ass, but I still love you.</p><p>
  <em>Javi lets out a soft laugh, reaching over and taking the pencil from you. He writes something underneath your words, but shields it from your view with his forearm. Only when he’s done does he let you see.</em>
</p><p>The feeling is mutual, querida.<em> There’s a little heart doodled next to it. </em></p><p>
  <em>Your expression softens, and you feel your heart swell in your chest. You place both hands on the table, using them to brace yourself as you lean over the table. There’s a knowing look in Javi’s eyes, and he does the same, meeting you in the middle for a tender kiss. “Te quiero tanto, mi corazón,” he murmurs against your lips.</em>
</p><p>You close your eyes, leaning back further in the chair with the menu held firmly against your chest, close to your heart. A few moments pass where you don’t move, giving yourself some time to compose yourself before you keep going. That hadn’t been the first time he’d called you “mi corazón,” but to hear those words fall from his lips had always caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach. That’s why the same words had been scribed next to his name. He was your heart, too.</p><p>Shaking your head to yourself, you sit up again. The next thing you pull out is a dozen or so Polaroid pictures, all with varying dates and locations penned on the back. Most of them had been taken by your mother. She’d always insisted on taking pictures of the two of you whenever she could, and it only got worse after you’d gotten engaged. She’d told you that one day you’d be grateful that so many of these moments were documented. You’d believed her then, though now there’s a part of you that wishes there weren’t so many pictures to remind you of just how deeply integrated into your life that Javier had once been.</p><p>There’s one photo, however, that catches your eye as you flip through the small stack. Unlike the others, which are more staged, this one is candid. You’re standing in Javier’s dorm room at Texas A&amp;I, and you immediately recognize it as the day that you and your mother had gone to help him move in. Though really, she’d only gone because you didn’t trust yourself to be able to drive back to Laredo on your own. You would only be a couple of hours away from Javier once you moved into your own dorm in San Antonio, but two hours seemed like days when you’d grown up right down the road from him.</p><p>
  <em>“That’s the last box,” Chucho declares, folding down the cardboard to make it easier to dispose of. You take in a deep breath as it hits you. You’re about to go back home without Javier. You’d already spent the last few nights alone with him, saying your more official goodbyes, but they hadn’t felt real. Now you’re really leaving him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You feel Javi snake his arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and the gentle contact causes tears to spring into your eyes. You hold on tightly to his arms, not wanting to let him go. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then there’s a flash, and you look up to see your mother with the camera pointed at the two of you, the photo sliding out the bottom just a moment later. You shake your head at her. “Mama, please,” you chastise her, to which she shrugs, but smiles apologetically. You know she doesn’t mean any harm. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We’ll give you two a few minutes,” Javier’s mother says. Alicia then takes her husband’s hand, and the two of them file out the door with your mother close behind them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Javi chuckles lowly, pressing a kiss to the juncture of your neck and your shoulder now that the two of you aren’t being so closely watched. “You’re gonna be alright,” he whispers.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I should have just applied here,” you murmur, frowning deeper. As an English major, you could have chosen to go to school just about anywhere. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No. You liked visiting San Antonio. You’ll have fun there. I promise,” he tries to convince you. “And we’ll both be home for holidays and spring break,” he pauses to kiss your temple, “though I think a spring break trip with just the two of us sounds like a good time.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You grin at the idea. “That would be nice,” you reply softly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Javi loosens his grip on you, but only enough to turn you so that you face him. He brushes a few strands of hair from your face, tucking them back behind your ear. As your eyes meet his, they fill with tears, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them as they begin to slide down your cheeks. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t cry, querida. Please,” he whispers, cradling the back of your head as you bury your face in his chest. For his sake, you take a few deep breaths, pulling yourself back together. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Once your tears are mostly dry, you look up at him again. “Alright. Alright. I’m done,” you say, cracking the slightest smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Javi smiles back down at you, leaning in for another kiss. He stops just before his lips can capture yours. “It doesn’t matter how far away we are. It doesn’t change anything,” he murmurs.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I love you, Javi,” you whisper, taking his face gently in your hands and closing the remaining distance between the two of you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I love you too, mi corazón.”</em>
</p><p>A single tear escapes you as you relive the tender moment, though you quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. For just a moment, you think about shutting the box and leaving it alone–at least for the night. But you’ve already gotten yourself sucked in the current. The only thing you can do now is ride it out.</p><p>You continue looking through all the old memories, reliving the moments almost as vividly as the day they happened. There’s a keychain from the spring break trip that you and Javier did actually take. You find a cheesy birthday card, the cork from the bottle of wine he’d brought you the night he proposed. There’s even a couple of letters that he’d written to you during those college years filled with lofty promises about what your lives would look like once you graduated and got your careers started.</p><p>It’s as you read the letters that your emotions get the better of you, and your single tear gives way to a wave. More than once he’d described the day that the two of you would finally be married, and it tears you apart to know that he’d painted that picture so vividly in your mind, only to be the one to so cruelly destroy it at the last moment.</p><p>Just as you think you’ve made it to the end of memory lane, you find two more things left in the box, buried at the bottom. The first is a piece of cardstock. Time has yellowed the original white color, and when you turn it over, you feel your heart drop to your stomach.</p><p>It’s your wedding invitation.</p><p>They were a formality that your grandmother had insisted on, even though you and Javier had both agreed that it wasn’t necessary. The wedding was supposed to be a smaller, family affair, much in the way that Danny’s had been. There were a lot of the traditional details that you just hadn’t been worried about. The ceremony wasn’t your priority. It was being able to call Javier your husband that mattered the most. As long as you were able to say “I do” with Javier, you’d be the happiest woman in the world.</p><p>The last thing in the box is a small drawstring pouch. You can hear something metallic jingling inside. You pull the drawstring open and shake the contents into your waiting palm. Immediately, your fist closes around the three rings: your engagement ring, and the wedding bands meant for you and Javier.</p><p>A choked sob forces itself from your lips, and you hold your closed fist close to your chest, right over your heart. You don’t know why they were in the box or who put them there. You haven’t even <em>seen</em>the wedding bands since they were handed over for safekeeping before the wedding.</p><p>However, your last memory of your engagement ring is all too vivid.</p><p>
  <em>You stand in the back room of the church, your mother standing with you. You’re both waiting for Chucho to tell you that Javier is ready, and that it’s time for you to walk down the aisle. Anxiety has taken up residence in your chest, and while you try to convince yourself that it’s only wedding jitters, you can’t help but feel like there’s something very wrong. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Mama, what time is it?,” you ask quietly. It’s the only way you can keep your voice from shaking. It feels like there’s barbed wire wrapped around your throat. Speak any louder and you know you’ll be fighting off panicked tears. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She looks at the watch on her wrist, sighing softly. “It’s a quarter after three, honey,” she admits. The wedding was supposed to start at three. “Let me go see what’s going on, sweetheart. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just a lost boutonnière or a button that needs sewn back on. Take a deep breath. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she tells you. You nod, taking a set on one of the benches.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As you wait, you start twisting your engagement ring around on your finger. It’s been a nervous tic since the day Javi put it on your finger, and even as the edges of the metal rub your skin raw, you can’t bring yourself to stop. Even as you try to breathe deeply, nothing helps assuage the panic that you feel. Surely someone would have given a warning if it were a simple issue. Surely they wouldn’t leave you so worried for something so trivial. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The passage of time is lost on you. There’s no clock in the room and in your panic, you can’t be sure how long your mother has been gone. But when you hear the knob on the door turn, you’re immediately on your feet, nearly tripping over your dress as you move across the room to whoever is coming in. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tears blur your vision when you see the somber look on Chucho’s face, his eyes tinged red with tears of his own.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What happened? Where is he?,” you ask desperately. Without waiting for an answer, you try to make your way past the older man, set on going to the other dressing room yourself to find Javier. But Chucho wraps his arms around you, preventing you from moving any farther. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He shakes his head. “He’s gone, mijita. I’m sorry.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And just like that, your whole world comes crashing down on top of you. Burying you and the life you’d wanted to live so fiercely. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The first sob that claws its way from your throat sounds more like a scream, and you bury your face in Chucho’s shoulder, letting him take most of your weight as you all but collapse in his arms. “Where is he?,” you beg, “Pops, where did he go?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Chucho is quiet, his voice thick with emotion as he speaks. “I don’t know, mijita. He left without telling anyone. No one saw where he went,” he tells you. He sniffs softly, tightening his hold on you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why?,” you whimper, raising your head just enough to look Chucho in the eye. But seeing the look on his face only makes your chest throb. Your breaths come in sharp gasps as you wait for an answer, though you know that he doesn’t have one.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He just shakes his head.</em>
</p><p><em>“God, what did I do? What did I </em>do,” <em>you weep, your fists curling tightly around the edges of his suit jacket, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck. You can just barely hear him trying to shush you, to soothe you in any way that he can. You’re shaking violently with every cry that escapes you, and though you know you’re breaking Chucho’s heart, you can’t bring yourself to stop. You’ve never felt grief like this, so forceful and agonizing and </em>real.<em>You feel like you’ve been pulled underwater and your lungs are burning for air that they’ll never get. You know that they won’t</em></p><p>
  <em>Javier was the air you breathed, and now he’s gone, leaving you to suffocate alone. </em>
</p><p>You sit there at your desk, unending waves of tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re not in the same fit of hysterics that you were on that day, but you still feel the same anguish, the same throbbing in your chest. It burns, a reminder that you haven’t truly lived or breathed since the day Javier left. Slowly, you uncurl your fingers from around the rings, wincing at the indentations in your palm from where you’d held them so tightly. You drop them onto your desk, not at all bothering with the pouch you’d found them in.</p><p>You stand from the chair, forcing your tears away as you stalk out of your room and towards the front door. You grab your jacket and your car keys, and then you’re gone.</p><p>There’s only one way to drown out the pain you feel.</p><p>—</p><p>Towards the edge of town, out past the railroad tracks, there’s a run down bar that Javier used to frequent when he was younger, before he took off for Columbia. As he pulls into the crowded parking lot, he’s not surprised to see that the building hasn’t changed a bit. The paint is still worn. The roof still needs patched, and even the busted window hasn’t been replaced, just patched over with plywood boards.</p><p>Before he even gets out of his dad’s truck, he can hear the roaring conversations of people trying to be heard over the rest of the background noise. He sighs, running his hand over his face before he gets out. This isn’t the most ideal situation. Javier would much prefer to be drinking in the comfort of his own home, but he knows that his father is getting suspicious about the amount of alcohol he’s been consuming for the past couple of weeks. He can deal with the noise for a few hours if it means he doesn’t have to sit through another one of Chucho’s heart-to-heart talks. There have been a few too many since he came back from Colombia.</p><p>He just hopes that no one bothers him. The last thing he needs is to have all of Laredo down his throat asking him about Colombia. He never wanted to be a hero. He doesn’t think of himself that way. How can he? After everything he’s done, all of the destruction he’s caused, how could he ever be considered a hero? If only they knew what kind of man Colombia had turned him into.</p><p>Javier opens the door, stepping out of the cab. He shuts and locks the door before walking into the bar. It’s hard to see through the thick haze of smoke that fills the room, and it doesn’t help that the only dim lighting comes from the television and the neon lights on the walls. All that matters to him right now though, is that he’s able to drown out the echo of his father’s words in his head.</p><p>If it’s even possible, Javier’s sleeping habits have worsened. Where he once dreamed of the hurt in your eyes when he’d seen you in the market, he now only sees you being held in his father’s arms the moment you learned he’d run off. He can’t shake the haunted look in his father’s eyes as he’d finally revealed the details of that day. And all Javier feels is guilt. He’s being crushed under the weight of knowing just how deeply he’d hurt you.</p><p>He doesn’t even want to explain himself anymore. He knows that nothing he says will ever rid you of the scars he’s left on your heart. It’s something that he’ll never forgive himself for.</p><p>Javier takes a seat at the bar, and he’s surprised that there’s even a seat open, given just how crowded the room is. He remembers though, even when he was younger, the bar never really seemed to hit any sort of capacity. People kept coming, and somehow it all worked out. Like somehow the finite space of the building became infinite when lonely, broken people came seeking refuge.</p><p>Thankfully, there’s a glass of whiskey in front of him just moments later. Javier takes a sip of the dark amber liquid, closing his eyes as he feels the warm burn down his throat and into his chest. He’s glad to feel something there that isn’t the suffocating sense of grief and guilt he’s felt since the night of Danny’s wedding.</p><p>But he knows his father was right. About all of it. Even if he doesn’t want it to be true, Javier knows that he’s screwed up, and that he’s running back to Colombia just so he doesn’t have to face it. But it would be so much easier to just go back to work, back to dismantling cartels and incarcerating drug lords. He could bury himself in his work, in booze, in women.</p><p>Women that are not you.</p><p>And as he drains the first glass of whiskey and starts on the second, Javier realizes that there’s one more thing his father was right about: he’s not the man that he used to be.</p><p>He closes his eyes again, thinking about the simple way that life used to be before he took off. Before Escobar, everything was linear. He met you, fell in love with you, planned to marry you. You’d both gone to school and started your careers, ones that would take you far away from Laredo if that was what you’d wanted.</p><p>And God, did he want that. It was one thing that he had always talked about with you. You’d both grown up feeling caged in by the small-town atmosphere. College had been the most freeing experience. The feeling of independence and anonymity was so intoxicating that neither of you could get enough of it. You’d been so on board with his idea of escaping Laredo, no matter where the two of you ended up. <em>“I’ll follow you anywhere, Javi,”</em> you’d told him once.</p><p>You would have. He knows that beyond any doubt in his mind. Even to Colombia.</p><p>He opens his eyes again, discovering that his glass is empty again. His eyes search the room for the bartender, but something else catches his attention. Through the haze of smoke and sea of moving bodies, it’s hard for him to know for sure, but as he looks a little longer, he finds that he does indeed see what he thinks he sees.</p><p>You’re sitting at a small table in the back of the bar, nursing a glass of something he can’t quite make out in the inadequate lighting. But then you stop, like you can sense his eyes on you. You turn, your head toward the bar, your gaze moving slowly as you try to find the source of your unease.</p><p>Your eyes lock onto his, and in the low neon lights he can see that they’re glistening with unshed tears.</p><p>Javier feels his heart leap into his throat, and he watches as your entire body tenses. He drops his gaze, looking back down at the empty glass in front of him. Immediately his father’s words come back to him. He’s done seeking you out and forcing you into conversations that you don’t want to have.</p><p>But he looks up again when he sees quick, unsteady movement in your general direction. Javier doesn’t know how much you’ve had to drink, but one look at you as you walk to pay your tab tells him that you’re in no shape to drive yourself home. He stays still, waiting to see what the bartender does. If he’s any good at his job, he’ll make sure that you don’t walk out of the bar without a safe way to get home.</p><p>You walk away without a word from the bartender. And though there are plenty of other people around you, none of them seem to feel the need to stop you either.</p><p>“Fuck,” Javier mutters, knowing that he has to do <em>something.</em></p><p>After slapping a few bills onto the counter, he stands from his barstool, nearly knocking it over with the force of his rapid movement. He then follows you out of the bar, calling out your name before you can reach your car. You stop, frozen in your tracks.</p><p>“What do you want, Javier? Haven’t you figured it out yet? I want nothing to do with you!,” you shout back at him, turning on your heels to face him. Your eyes are dark with anger, and he knows immediately that this isn’t going to go as smoothly as he might have dared to hope.</p><p>Javier takes a tentative step in your direction, swallowing thickly. He holds his palms up in mock surrender. “You’re not driving yourself home. I’m just making sure you get there safely. That’s all,” he tells you. You straighten up then, and he can practically see the gears turning in your head as you study him closely. In your anger, he can see that you’ve sobered up considerably, but he’s still not taking any chances, not with your well being and quite possibly your life.</p><p>You scoff, shaking your head. <em>“Fuck off,</em> Javier. I’m fine. I live right down the road,” you spit back.</p><p>“No. I’m not gonna fuck off. I don’t care if it means I have to call your mom myself. You’re not driving home,” he insists.</p><p>You take a step closer to him. “Why do you even care, hmm? You didn’t give a shit about what happened to me for ten fucking years, and now all of a sudden you wanna play the good guy who’s just looking out for me? Well that’s bullshit, Peña,” you bite.</p><p>“I–”</p><p>“No. Actually, you wanna talk about what happened so badly? Let’s do it. Right here,” you start. And even from a distance he can see you trembling. Whether it’s from the cool night air or the heat of your fury, he can’t tell for sure.</p><p>“We’re not doing this while you’re drunk,” he states firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.</p><p>You take another step forward. You’re only about ten feet from him now. “Oh no. Everything I think about you is <em>crystal clear</em> in my mind, Javier Peña,” you shoot back.</p><p>He takes a deep breath, knowing that there’s no escape from whatever you’re about to lay on him. But he knows that he deserves to hear every horrible thing you’ve thought about him in the last ten years. And even then, it won’t compare to what he’s done to you.</p><p>“What did I ever do to you?,” you shout at him. “What did I do to make you leave me like that? Didn’t you ever think that maybe I deserved an explanation? And I mean before you left, not ten years after the fact.” Javier stands there in silence, and he just hopes that the people inside the bar can’t hear you over the music and the chatter and the television. The last thing he needs is for this to turn into a spectacle.</p><p>“I didn’t know what to tell you,” he admits. It’s not enough.</p><p>“You left me without a <em>word,</em> Javier. No warning. Nothing. If it weren’t for your dad, I wouldn’t have ever known what happened to you. For so long I have tried to figure out what happened. Tried to figure out what I did,” you stop for a moment as your voice finally breaks. Javier feels a pang in his chest as your eyes well up with tears. He wonders how many you’ve shed because of him. How much pain will he cause you before this is all over?</p><p>“I <em>loved </em>you, Javi. I <em>thought</em> you loved me too, but–”</p><p>“I do love you, querida.” He says the words before he can stop himself. He can take your verbal lashing. He can listen to you tell him about all the terrible things he’s done and the consequences of those actions. But he can’t take this. Never this. Even if it makes sense for you to think he doesn’t love you, that he ever stopped, it’s not true.</p><p>“Don’t call me that,” is your only response to his words. “You don’t get to fucking call me that anymore. Because you let me believe that we were gonna spend the rest of our lives together. Our story was gonna be the one that I could tell, and then you were just gone,” you weep.</p><p>Javier takes a couple of tentative steps forward, so that you’re just within his reach. He wants nothing more than to be able to take you into his arms, to hold you close and comfort you the way that he used to. Every fiber of his being vibrates with the need to wipe your tears away and stay with you until you smile again. But he can’t. The only thing he can do is stand there and watch as you break right in front of him. He’s absolutely helpless.</p><p>“You were the love of my life. I gave you everything. I would have followed you anywhere, Javi. But you <em>left me here,”</em> you tell him, your breath coming in short gasps now.</p><p>He sighs softly. “I know. I’m so sorry,” he breathes.</p><p>You look up into his eyes with a new resolve, despite the effort you’ve already expended. “I hate you,” you declare resolutely.</p><p>Javier nods. “You should. That’s the least I deserve for what I’ve done,” he replies, and though his exterior appears unshaken by your words, his heart is breaking in his chest. To hear you say the words makes it all too real.</p><p>“I hate you,” you say again, a new wave of tears overtaking you. And then you close the remaining gap between the two of you, shoving at his chest as hard as you can, though in your current state it’s not enough to really move him. “I hate you, Javier,” you repeat, stumbling into him. He doesn’t hesitate to catch you, keeping you upright as your legs give out from under you.</p><p>And you keep repeating it, sobbing the words into his collarbone. Every declaration is punctuated by a weakly thrown punch to his chest and torso. He lets you. A sick, twisted part of him wishes that you had the strength to hurt him that way.</p><p>“I hate you,” you wail one last time, “but I don’t know how to love anyone else…”</p><p>Your hands fall uselessly to his shoulders, gripping onto the lapel of his leather jacket as you continue to cry into his chest. Something inside of Javier breaks as he feels you trembling in his arms. He can feel every bit of the pain that radiates from your body. It brings tears to his eyes and cuts off his breathing. He’s never felt agony this way, not even in Colombia.</p><p>Suddenly, Javier understands what his father felt like the day he left.</p><p>—</p><p>Javier carries you from the truck into your apartment, using the keys he found in your jacket pocket. You’re sleeping restlessly in his arms, soft choked cries escaping you every few minutes, but he’s just glad that he was able to get you home.</p><p>He wanders down the hall with you, finding the bedroom relatively easily given the small size of your apartment. He then lays you gently on your bed, frowning at the way your brows are knit together, deep worry lines marring your forehead. Javier has to resist the urge to smooth them out with his thumb. He knows better than to touch you right now, when you’re far less than aware of what’s going on.</p><p>Instead, he takes a seat next to you, making quick work of removing your shoes and your socks. He’ll leave you to sleep in your clothes, not wanting to wake you. Sighing, he pushes himself up, feeling exhaustion settling in on his shoulders. It’s been a long night even without considering his inability to sleep.</p><p>But as he stands, you stir, one hand blindly reaching at him. Javier looks to see that your eyes are just barely open as you finally manage to wrap your fingers loosely around his wrist.</p><p>“Don’t leave me, Javi. Please. Not again,” you whimper.</p><p>He knows that you don’t mean it, that they’re just words fueled by alcohol and exhaustion. But the plea still hits him square in the chest. If only he knew you wouldn’t want different when you woke up in the morning, he’d stay right next to you for the rest of the night.</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers. If you hear it, he can’t tell. Your eyes are closed again, your hand slowly slipping away from him.</p><p>Javier turns to leave, but as he moves to turn off your desk light, he sees the various things spread out on the wood surface. His chest constricts as he realizes what it is and where it came from. All of these memories of what your lives looked like before stare back at him. He lets out a shaky breath, hardly able to believe that you still have the keepsakes.</p><p>He gathers it all back up, placing it gently back in the box, and he carries it with him out to the living room, where he too can take the painful trip down memory lane. Javier sits heavily on your couch, placing the box on the coffee table and beginning to reminisce.</p><p>By the time he’s done, he understands why you’d ended up at the bar. If he weren’t so exhausted, he’d need another drink too.</p><p>As the clock on your wall gently chimes at three in the morning, Javier lays his head down on the arm of your couch. He aches so badly for sleep, that he can’t help but pass out right there.</p><p>It’s restless, but sleep nonetheless</p><p>—</p><p>You wake with a start as the first rays of light filter their way through your bedroom curtains. You look down at yourself, finding that you’re still in your clothes from the previous night. But you don’t know how you got home from the bar. You don’t know how you made it to your bed. You don’t know how your socks and shoes managed to lie neatly on the floor next to you. All you remember is–</p><p>Javi.</p><p>You stumble out of your bed, moving as fast as your aching, fatigued body can manage even though it makes your head throb. When you make it to the living room, the first place you look is the couch. He never liked leaving you alone on the nights you got drunk.</p><p>But he’s not there.</p><p>The only sign that Javier has been in the living room is the mess on the coffee table. He’d found the box on your desk. He’d gone through it and relived the same memories you had. You sink down on the couch, resting your elbows on your knees and pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. Your words come flooding back to you and you let out a shaky sigh. You don’t know where to go from here.</p><p>You sit up straight again, noting the early hour, and decide to just crash on the couch for a few more hours. As you settle yourself onto the cushions, you feel something hard press into your back. You reach behind you, your fingers wrapping around the offending object. A groan escapes you as you bring your hand back into your eyeshot.</p><p>Javi’s aviators.</p><p>You place them on the table. You don’t have the strength to consider the idea of taking them back to him just yet. Instead, you close your eyes, letting the pull of exhaustion put you back under.</p><p>The last thing you’re consciously aware of before you fall asleep again is the faint scent of Javier’s cologne under your nose. A soft smile graces your lips, and in your sleep your burrow further into the cushion.</p><p>-</p><p>
  <b>Spanish Translations</b>
</p><p>Mi Corazón - <em>My Heart (Nickname)</em></p><p>“Lo siento, querida.” - <em>“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”</em></p><p>“Te quiero tanto, mi corazón.” - <em>“I love you, my heart.”</em></p><p>Mijita - <em>My Daughter (Nickname)</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reader and Javier have a much calmer discussion about what happened between them.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The clock on your wall chimes with the late morning hour. You groan as the sound pulls you from sleep, slowly opening your eyes. Sunlight streams through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. But still you find it too bright, and you immediately shut them again, cursing under your breath. You roll over to face the back of the couch, sighing as the movement causes every muscle to erupt in a dull, throbbing pain.<b><br/></b></p><p>You force your eyes open again, though now it’s much easier to let your vision adjust to the daylight. A few moments pass in silence as you allow yourself to breathe and work up the strength to move any further. You regret every drop of the bourbon you’d drank the night before. And really, it hadn’t even served its purpose. The night was spent replaying memories of Javier in an endless supercut, interrupted only when you’d felt his burning gaze once more. All you’d wanted was to forget for a little while.</p><p>You push yourself up to sit and you shift towards the table again. Elbows on your knees, you bury your face in your hands, feeling the beginnings of a headache blooming in the back of your skull.</p><p>You’re not ready to consider your words or the consequences of last night, so you haul yourself up from the couch, padding back to your bathroom to get cleaned up. The first thing you do is raid the medicine cabinet, downing a couple of painkillers and chasing them with some water from the plastic cup you keep on the counter. Taking a deep breath, you grip the sides of the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror.</p><p>You can’t stand the sight of the woman you see, disheveled and exhausted. Your slept-in clothes are wrinkled and disordered. The remnants of your tears still shine on your cheeks. Your hair is tangled and unkempt. You’re a mess, not unlike you’d been after you’d run into Javier the first time.</p><p>Shaking your head, you go to turn on the shower. The sound of the curtain rings scraping against the rod grates on your nerves more than usual. You’re not sure what this is that you feel, what it is that has you irritated to your very core. The short and easy answer is that you’re hungover and still feeling the lingering emotions you’d tried so hard to drown. But somehow you know that it’s more than that.</p><p>You step behind the curtain, and underneath the scalding spray of water, your mind begins to wander. The words exchanged between you and Javier haunt you despite your efforts to drive them away. That familiar ache makes its home in your chest as the memories come back to you. But you don’t know why it’s there. You’d finally given him a piece of your mind after what he’d done to you. You’d made him understand just how deep the wounds were. That’s what you’d wanted.</p><p>Wasn’t it?</p><p>You let out a long, ragged exhale, brushing your hair back away from your eyes and beginning to clean yourself up. Even as you try to distract yourself with the task, the ache in your chest burrows deeper, reaching for your soul and seeking to tear it open as your own words repeat themselves over and over in your mind.</p><p>
  <em>“I hate you…but I don’t know how to love anyone else…”</em>
</p><p>You try to convince yourself that you meant what you said. You’ve heard it said that drunken words are sober thoughts, and by some token they are. You hate Javier for what he’s done to you. You hate that he threw away everything you had together and came back demanding that you listen to him. You hate that his presence has had such an effect on you, turning you into a fragile, pathetic version of yourself. You hate that he still has the nerve to say that he loves you.</p><p>You turn the water off as the last of the soap is washed away from your body, then step out and wrap yourself in a towel. It hurts less to move now, and you make your way into your bedroom. You dress yourself in something functional, but still comfortable, not having the patience for any kind of restricting clothing.</p><p>Still your thoughts linger. It’s true. You don’t know how to love anyone else. You spent so many years loving Javier, that, despite his betrayal, it feels <em>wrong</em> to move on. You’ve given so much of yourself to him, and you still carry so much of him with you, it wouldn’t be right to be with anyone else. And even if you could bring yourself to let go of him, how could you ever run the risk of trusting someone else the way you’d once trusted Javier? Why would you ever put yourself in a position to be so deeply hurt again? It doesn’t make sense.</p><p>You sigh, returning to the bathroom to work the tangles out of your hair and brush your teeth. With the painkillers kicking in, you start to feel much more awake and mobile. Your headache has already subsided, and you just count yourself lucky that you don’t have it any worse.</p><p>Back to something much closer to your normal self, you return to the living room, settling yourself on the couch again. Your gaze falls to the array of memories scattered across the table, now joined by Javi’s aviators. You know that you need to return them to him and thank him for bringing you home. You won’t let your own feelings keep you from expressing basic human decency.</p><p>But as you look at the sunglasses, it strikes you that maybe your feelings aren’t as cut and dry as you keep trying to convince yourself that they are. You wouldn’t have brought the box home if you wanted to let go. You wouldn’t shed so many tears and spend so much time getting lost in your head if you simply hated him. Hate is an easy thing to recognize on its own. What you feel for Javier is much more complicated than that.</p><p>The truth is, you <em>can’t</em> love anyone else. Not like that.</p><p>—</p><p>The clouds in the sky block the sun from beating down on you as you walk the familiar path to the Peña ranch. You’ve taken this same path through town since your parents first trusted you to go so far on your own: walk towards the church, pass the bakery, turn right at the stoplight by the mini market, and then follow that road to the outskirts of town. As the sidewalk gives way to the dusty road, you have to force yourself to breathe. In the years that have passed, you haven’t spent much time on the property; you couldn’t stand being in the near-empty house knowing that Javier had just abandoned it all.</p><p>The ranch house comes into your view, and the first thing you notice are the oak trees on either side. The branches sway with the cool breeze, and the leaves are upturned, showing their lighter underside. Off in the distance beyond the house, you can see darker clouds rolling in. The saving grace is knowing that you’ll get to keep this visit short to avoid the rain, though you do wish that you had checked on the weather before leaving your apartment.</p><p>As you make your way farther up the drive, you notice that Chucho’s truck is gone. Logically, you know that the older man has work to do, but part of you still hopes that it’s Javier that’s gone. Handing the sunglasses over to Chucho with a short message of thanks to pass to his son would be so much easier on your heart than having to look Javier in the eye again.</p><p>Sighing, you head up the front porch steps and knock lightly on the door. It takes a few moments, but eventually you hear heavy footsteps approaching. You fidget with the sunglasses in your hands, though you take care not to smudge the lenses. You’d already cleaned them before you left the apartment.</p><p>The door opens, and you take in a deep breath as your eyes meet Javier’s. His brows furrow in confusion as he takes in the sight of you, and he takes a small step forward, hand gripping the doorframe.</p><p>“Hey,” you greet softly, forcing an unconvincing half smile. You then offer his sunglasses. “I found these on my couch. I just wanted to bring them back and thank you,” you explain, taking just a momentary pause, “for bringing me home.”</p><p>Javier straightens up, shaking his head as he takes the aviators. He hooks them on the collar of the t-shirt he’s wearing. “Thanks. I thought maybe I left them in the truck. Pops took off this morning for an auction. He won’t be back until tomorrow. Not that I need them today,” he says, nodding up towards the sky, which is becoming increasingly darker with the coming storm. You can feel the change in the breeze and the way that the air around you is almost electric.</p><p>“Yeah. I probably should have walked to get my car and then driven over,” you remark, though really you’re just thinking out loud as you watch the dark clouds moving closer to town.</p><p>Javier sighs and you look back at him, your own gaze softening as you meet his tired eyes. You doubt he slept much last night. “And…you don’t have to thank me for that. I just didn’t want you to get hurt. Everybody else just watched you leave,” he admits. You feel your chest swell at his words, but it’s not the same anxiety you’ve been feeling for the last couple of weeks. This is different. Soft. Gentle.</p><p>“I still appreciate it. You’re–” A deafening crack of thunder cuts you off. Rain begins to fall from the sky, first in droplets, but then in sheets. “Fuck,” you breathe.</p><p>Javier looks from you, to the rain, and then back to you. “Why don’t you come in?,” he asks, “Just…Just until the rain lets up.” You can tell he’s hesitant to even suggest such a thing.</p><p>You turn your head to the road you’d come from. You know you’ll be soaked to the bone by the time you get back to your apartment, even if you ran all the way there. But being alone with Javier in the house was exactly the situation you’d wanted to avoid.</p><p>“Come on,” he implores you. “It shouldn’t last that long.”</p><p>You nod, stepping into the house with him. He closes the door behind you, stepping away from you as you remove your shoes and socks. When you look up again, he’s gone.</p><p>You let out a quiet sigh, stepping further into the house. Like everything else, it hasn’t changed since your last visit, or since you were young, really. It’s still the same home away from home you’d grown to love. You smile softly as you walk down the hall, looking at the family pictures that line the walls. Your favorite hangs at the end, just before you step into the living room. It’s a picture of Chucho, Alicia, and Javi from when he was about six, a Christmas photo that you’re fairly certain your mother took for them and had framed as a gift the next year.</p><p>You linger for just a moment to look at the photo, but then move forward into the living room where you settle yourself on the end of the couch. Another rumble of thunder emanates from the sky, and you look out the window to watch the rain fall. You’ve always found storms to be incredibly soothing, and often you spend that time writing. Words seem to flow easier when you have a tempest as your ambiance.</p><p>A shrill whine from the kitchen breaks you from your reverie. You turn to look in the direction of the other room, but you don’t get up to investigate. Instead, you settle further into the couch, letting yourself grow comfortable with your surroundings despite the circumstances that brought you here. It’s almost strange, the way the feeling of home has enveloped you. Even while alone with Javier, there’s still an unmatched sense of peace that you get just from being here.</p><p>You only lift your head when you hear footsteps approaching, and your head tilts just slightly to the side when you see that Javier has a steaming mug in his hand. It hits you then that the sound you’d heard was Alicia’s old tea kettle. “You drink tea now?,” you ask him, arching a brow. He’d always made fun of you for the different kinds of herbal tea you drank when you were younger.</p><p>He lets out an amused chuckle. “Definitely not,” he replies, putting the mug down on the coffee table in front of you. “Pops still keeps a box of your chamomile tea in the cupboard. Between you and I, I think the old man likes to drink it himself from time to time. I caught him with the box on the counter this morning before he left,” he explains, and you can’t help but giggle softly at the thought of Chucho drinking your tea.</p><p>“You should try it sometime. It’s good for you,” you tell him, though it’s not something he’s never heard from you. You used to tell him the same thing when he’d tease you, and then you’d bore him to death for fun by listing all of the health benefits from your different kinds of tea.</p><p>Javier shakes his head, looking down at you from where he stands with his hands on his hips on the other side of the coffee table. “Don’t start this shit again,” he mutters, but there’s no edge to his tone.</p><p>“Don’t worry. I won’t pester you,” you assure him, picking up the mug and holding it to your chest. You hum in content as the warmth spreads from the mug to your body, furthering that sense of peace and tranquility. “Thank you,” you murmur.</p><p>Javier just nods shortly, then drops his arms and turns to leave the living room. “Where are you going?,” you ask before you can even try to stop yourself.</p><p>He stops from where he’s headed towards the back of the house and turns, confusion washing over his features once more. “I just…figured I’d leave you be. We don’t have to pretend everything is okay. I know it’s not,” he says, and you find yourself frowning at his words. A feeling of loss settles over you as you watch his face fall, and you shake your head slightly.</p><p>“Sit down, Javi,” you say softly, leaning forward to place the mug back on the coaster.</p><p>Your eyes never leave his as you watch him contemplate your words. His lips are parted with the intention of speaking, but you can see that there are no words coming to him. Instead, he nods, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. You turn, sitting with your back against the edge. He remains seated forward, though he’s angled slightly in your direction.</p><p>You take in a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject. You haven’t forgiven him, and you’re not going to discount the anger and hurt you’ve carried with you for a decade, but you want to give him a chance to speak. “I don’t want it to be like this, Javi,” you start quietly. “Even if things can’t ever be the way that they were before, I want us to at least be able to coexist.”</p><p>Javier is silent for a few moments, thunder filling the room once again in the absence of words. He sighs, shifting to lean forward with his forearms against his legs. His head is hung and he wrings his hands between his knees–a nervous tic of his. But you say nothing, giving him time to form his thoughts into something coherent enough to speak out loud. You won’t rush him.</p><p>“I’m sorry, querida,” he finally says, lifting his head and looking you in the eye as he says the words. The whites of his eyes are tinged red now, but his tone carries more conviction than you’ve ever heard. You know he means it. He continues after a short pause, “I know that doesn’t change anything or make it better, but I’m sorry. What I did was wrong, even if I was trying to do what I thought was best for you. You deserved more than that from me.”</p><p>You look at him for a few moments, your mind running a mile a minute trying to figure out how he could have possibly been trying to help you. You bring your knees closer to your chest, feeling your throat begin to close off as a wave of emotion overtakes you. You’re about to get the answer to the question that has been slowly eating away at you for all of these years.</p><p>“Why did you leave me?,” you whisper, unable to make your voice any louder. To do so would release the tears that have gathered in your eyes. You try to keep your breathing slow and even to fend them off.</p><p>Javier watches you for a moment, and you can see the hurt in his eyes that comes after your words. “I…,” he starts, but he has to stop to gather himself again. He runs both hands roughly across his face, releasing a huffed exhale before he can bring himself to speak again. “It had nothing to do with you. It wasn’t your fault, alright?,” he says, and he looks at you, waiting for your short nod before he keeps going. “The DEA called me about a week before the wedding. They said since I’d finished my training at the academy, they needed me in Colombia,” he pauses, his gaze falling on the window as the rain continues to fall, “They told me how dangerous it would be. That I could end up dead if things went south. They made sure I knew the risks. And since you were part of my file, they knew about you and…they said they couldn’t guarantee your safety either.”</p><p>You can hardly believe what you’re hearing. All these years, you’ve tried to come up with the reason that he’d left. You’ve considered everything that you’d done that could possibly drive him off. And now he’s proven every single theory wrong. It comes as a shock, and you hold your legs tighter to your chest. Javier’s eyes are on you the whole time, taking in every movement and microexpression. He’s calculating your reaction to all of it, though you can’t bring yourself to say a word.</p><p>“I should have talked to you,” he admits, “but I couldn’t do it. I knew you’d never agree to wait for me. You would have followed me without any regard for your own safety…and I couldn’t let you do that.” He sits up straight then, raking his fingers through his hair. “For a long time I worried that I’d overreacted, because for the first few years, nothing happened. Our leads always ran dry. We couldn’t even get close to anything viable. But then they sent me a partner who brought his wife with him. They got way too close to her for anyone’s liking. She got involved in ways that could have gotten her killed,” he explains, and as you listen your eyes widen in horror. You can only begin to imagine the things that this other woman was subjected to.</p><p>“After that I knew…I knew I could live with leaving you, but I couldn’t run the risk of having to bury you,” he murmurs, a shaky breath escaping him.</p><p>You lean heavily against the arm of the couch, slowly beginning to straighten your legs again until your feet come to rest on the floor. There’s not much you can say, because he’s right. You would have gone with him to Colombia even if it meant <em>certain </em>death. That was how fiercely you’d loved him. But even if what he did was wrong, at least now you know what drove him to it.</p><p>You shake your head slightly to yourself, then meet his gaze again. “If it means anything, I’m glad I know now,” you tell him.</p><p>He nods. “I’m just glad I got to tell you. I thought maybe I wouldn’t,” he admits. You feel a twinge in your chest at his words, knowing that there are a multitude of things that could have prevented this conversation from ever happening. You don’t want to consider the more gruesome possibilities.</p><p>Javier stands from the couch, going back in the direction of the kitchen. This time, you don’t say anything to stop him. Instead, you take the mug from the coffee table, though even through the ceramic you can feel that the tea has gone lukewarm. You take a sip of it anyway, hoping maybe it’ll put your mind and heart at ease.</p><p>But something inside of you has shifted. You feel an emptiness in your soul. Where there was once a decade of pain and suffering, there’s now a void, one that you’re not sure can be filled. All of this could have been avoided. There’s sadness in knowing it. Your life could have taken off in such a different direction. And yet here you are, a product of the divergence from that path.</p><p>When Javi comes back, he has a glass of what you can only assume is whiskey in his hand. As you look down at the mug in your hands, part of you wishes that you had something a little stronger, but after last night, you know it’s better to go without.</p><p>The two of you sit there in silence, watching the storm. You have to hold back a bitter laugh as it occurs to you that the rain will probably last most of the day. It would be today that Laredo gets more rain than it does in nearly a year.</p><p>The passage of time, or rather, your awareness of it, fades as you stare out the window. You’re so lost in your own head that your eyes are open but unseeing. But eventually, minutes or hours later, you attempt to drink from an empty mug. Realizing that you’ve drained it, you lean forward to put the mug back on the coffee table. You look to Javier, who has finished his glass too, but absentmindedly turns it with his fingers.</p><p>“There’s something else that I need you to know,” he says, and the sudden break in the silence startles you even as you watch him speak the words.</p><p>“Okay…,” you reply quietly, allowing him to continue.</p><p>He puts the empty glass down on the table. “There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t regretted it. I don’t regret keeping you away from the danger, but I regret everything else. I put you through more pain than anyone should ever have to go through. Last night…it makes me sick to think that I’m the one that did that to you.”</p><p>You don’t know what possesses you to do it, but you move closer to him, just out of arm’s reach. You resist the urge to reach out and touch him, to tell him the one thing on your mind that you know for certain to be true. Even if you’d sobbed the words into his chest until you were dead on your feet, it only takes one look at Javier now to know that they weren’t true. You no longer see the man who caused you so much pain. You see the man you once loved with all the essence of your soul. And you know now that you’re not the only one who’s spent the last decade suffering. You find that you don’t have it in you to condemn him for a decision that he’s already been to hell for.</p><p>You don’t hate him.</p><p>“You’re not the only one with regrets from last night,” you admit in a hushed whisper, brushing a few fallen strands of hair back behind your ear.</p><p>Javier’s head snaps up to look at you, expression rife with disbelief. “What do you mean?,” he asks.</p><p>“I said things I didn’t mean. I thought I did, but I don’t…I don’t hate you, Javi,” you tell him.</p><p>He shakes his head. “You’re not obligated to make me feel better about any of this. You have every right to hate me. I wouldn’t blame you. Really, it only makes sense if you do,” he says, shrugging you off.</p><p>You sit up a bit straighter, your eyes challenging him. “Is that what you want?,” you question. You can’t help but be almost demanding. It doesn’t make sense for him to be this defensive after trying so long to get you to understand why he’d left.</p><p>Javier looks out, staring blankly at the wall. “What difference does it make?,” he asks, his tone flat and emotionless.</p><p>“What happened to you? What did they do to you in Colombia?,” you demand, though there’s concern laced in your tone. However, you try not to upset him further by raising your voice. You know from past experience that getting worked up only makes things worse. You don’t want that now. You want to be able to work through whatever is going through his mind.</p><p>He hangs his head. “None of it matters. Not anymore,” he murmurs dejectedly.</p><p>You feel worry welling up in your chest at hearing him talk this way. “Yes it does, Javi. Tell me, please. I know you better than anyone. Let me help you,” you plead, hoping to convince him to open up to you. You suppose that he has valid reasons not to, given the still fractured state of your relationship. But for reasons you can’t explain, you want him to be able to trust you again.</p><p>Javier stands abruptly from the couch, taking a few steps away and keeping his back to you. He reaches up, his hand reaching under the collar of his shirt to grasp his shoulder. “You don’t know me. I’m not that man anymore. You can’t help me.” He’s insistent, and he grows more rigid with every word. With the material of his shirt stretched so thin across his back, you’re able to see just how tense every muscle is.</p><p>You stand too, feeling your heart break in your chest at the hopelessness in his voice. “Don’t talk like that,” you chide gently.</p><p>“Why the hell would you even <em>want to?</em> After what I did to you, why do you still care?,” he barks, turning halfway to face you. His eyes stare you down in a hard gaze, challenging you now. His brows are knit in anger, and his hands are planted on his hips. You flinch at his sudden change in volume and demeanor.</p><p>You fumble around for an answer, not sure what you can tell him that makes sense. Really, you don’t know that there is a coherent enough answer. “Because… I…,” you falter.</p><p>He scoffs. “That’s what I thought,” he says, finality in his tone.</p><p>But you can’t let this be the end of the conversation. You take a moment to gather your wits, and finally you come up with an answer. “It doesn’t matter what you did. You don’t deserve to suffer,” you tell him, and it’s true. You don’t know what trauma he endured in Colombia in the fight to take down Escobar, but you won’t have him believe that he’s a lost cause that deserves to carry the weight of his sins alone.</p><p>“I did this to myself,” he says, softer now. “This is the least I deserve after the shady shit I’ve done. Not just leaving you, either. I made a lot of decisions I’m not proud of. You all think I’m some kind of hero. But you don’t know what I did down there. You’d never <em>look at me</em> again if you knew half of it,” he continues, and you watch him deflate. His hands fall to his sides as he lets out a shaky exhale. He looks away from you, seemingly unable to bring himself to meet your gaze, then reaches for the empty glass.</p><p>“Try me,” you counter, placing your hand over the glass before he has a chance to get to it.  </p><p>Javier stands up straight again, then rakes his fingers through his hair, running a rough hand down his face. “I did whatever I had to do to get close to Escobar. I worked with the enemy. I paid off women for information,” he pauses to gauge your reaction to his words, and there’s nothing you can do to hide the sadness in your eyes as you understand exactly what he’s implying. “I stole. I lied. Good people are dead because of calls I made. And even then…I still failed.” He turns away from you again, and there’s a pang in your chest when you hear his voice break.</p><p>You shake your head, uncurling your hand from the glass and straightening your back. “He’s dead now, Javi. You didn’t fail,” you murmur soothingly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. It’s hesitant and light, but you want to be able to comfort him in any way that you can.</p><p>He turns his head, and you frown deeply upon seeing the tears welled up in his eyes. “Yeah, and where was I? Sitting on a <em>fucking plane</em> back to D.C. while they took him down,” he laments. A single tear makes its way down his cheek.</p><p>You close the remaining distance between the two of you, feeling your heart rate begin to skyrocket at the proximity. You can feel the warmth radiating off of him. As you raise your hand to cup his cheek, your fingers begin to tremble. With the pad of your thumb, you gently wipe away the glistening tear, your lips shaking with the nervous breath that falls from your lips.</p><p>But to your surprise, his eyes slip closed, and you feel him lean into your touch. He lets out a pained noise, something between a whimper and a sigh, and you instinctively pull him closer. You wrap your arms gently around his neck, one hand rubbing his back. It happens before you’re even aware of what you’re doing, but even after you realize what you’ve done, you don’t pull away from him.</p><p>Javier tenses in your arms, and for a moment you’re afraid that you’ve only made things worse by taking it a step further. He raises his arms, letting them hover for a few seconds before he tentatively wraps them around your waist. When you don’t reject him, his fingers curl into your back, and he presses himself closer to you. He then shifts to bury his face in the crook of your neck. Your hand drifts upward, and you thread your fingers gently into his hair, finally letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Your eyes slip closed, and you rest your chin on his shoulder.</p><p>It’s here in each other’s arms again that time is suspended. Neither of you speak, but there’s no need for words when touch has already said everything. The tension once palpable in the air dissolves away, leaving peace in its place. Pressed so close, the two of you fit together like pieces of a puzzle that have finally been put back in their place. The laws of gravity are satisfied as you find each other again.</p><p>You could stay there forever, breathing in his scent and feeling the warmth of his embrace. If you had it your way, the two of you would never let go of each other. Because standing in the middle of his living room, wrapped in his arms, you know that you’re finally home, and so is he.</p><p>And you’ve waited a long time for Javier Peña to come home to you.</p><p>Letting out a soft breath, he finally begins to pull away from you. You open your eyes, meeting his tender gaze. He lifts one hand, gently brushing a few strands of hair from your face, but then cradles your cheek. Still close enough to feel it, you notice when his heart begins to race. Apprehension swims in his eyes as he studies your face. Your expression twists to one of concern, and it’s not until his eyes settle on your lips that you understand what he’s thinking.</p><p>Your pulse begins to thunder through your veins, but where you thought you’d feel an aversion to the idea, there’s only anticipation of his next move. You reach up with one hand, running the pad of your thumb along his strong jaw.</p><p>“Querida…,” he breathes. There’s so much behind the single word. You don’t need him to say anything else to know exactly what it is that he’s asking.</p><p>“Javi.” You give him your consent with just the murmuring of his name.</p><p>That’s all it takes. He slowly closes what little space remains between you, his breath hitching in his throat just before his lips meet yours. Your chest swells at the hesitant, tender kiss, and you’re afraid to move. It’s as if you’ve turned to glass before each other, both terrified to shatter back into the pieces that you’d just glued back together. But despite the abundance of caution, you still return the kiss.</p><p>There’s hope for the two of you yet.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things don't go quite as Javier expected after he kisses Reader</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Spanish translations included at the end of the chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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    <p>Javier’s mind is racing as he stands there with you, feeling more whole than he has since the day he left for Colombia. He inhales deeply, relishing his ability to breathe you in after so long. A warmth blooms in his chest as he thinks that maybe there’s a chance. Maybe the two of you can still reconcile what he once thought was destroyed. The thought of finally mending that rift—of making up for lost time—begins to creep into his head, igniting a spark of hope in his heart.</p>
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    <p>You start to pull back from him then, and Javier opens his eyes to meet yours in a gentle gaze. His heart plummets to his stomach, however, when he sees the troubled look on your face. Any life in his expression is immediately snuffed out and he loosens his hold on you, though he can’t bring himself to let go of you fully—not yet.</p>
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    <p>As your arms slowly fall back to your sides, he feels a crushing weight settle on his chest. He takes a small step back, releasing you despite the ache to pull you closer and keep you there. “What is it?,” he ventures carefully.</p>
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    <p>You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. Your gaze flits around the room, settling on the window for just a moment before you finally look back at him. That’s when he notices that the storm has passed, and that the sun is shining through a break in the clouds. “I’m sorry,” you say, “I just… I should go.”</p>
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  <p>Javier straightens up, his brows knitting together in confusion as he searches your eyes for any indication of what’s going through your mind. “What?,” he asks, “Why? Did I do something wrong?” He knows that the rapid-fire questions are likely to unnerve you, but he’s shocked by the quick change in your mood.</p>
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  <p>You shake your head. “No, Javi. I just….” You sigh, raking your fingers through your hair as you try to put your thoughts into a coherent sentence. “I can’t do this right now. Things weren’t supposed to go this far,” you finally manage, but to Javier, there’s more to be found in the words that you fail to speak.</p>
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  <p>You take a step back, looking towards the hallway that leads back to the front of the house. Javier follows your gaze, and it only takes him a second to understand what you’re contemplating. “Wait–just...talk to me. Don’t shut me out. Not when we were just starting to fix things,” he tries. Though now, you’ve sown the seeds of doubt in his mind. Despite your kiss, he’s not sure that you want to rebuild the bridge over the troubled waters of your shared past.</p>
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  <p>“I’m sorry,” is all that you have to offer in response.</p>
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  <p>His expression hardens, and while he tries his best not to appear angry or disappointed, he knows that there’s nothing that can mask what he feels. “Look,” he starts, planting his hands on his hips, “if you don’t want this, then tell me. We can go our separate ways. We’ve talked it over. That can be the end of it.” He hates to say the words, but he knows that he can’t force you into a relationship with him if that’s not what you want. If you’ve moved on, he has to accept it. “But don’t string me along,” he finishes after a momentary pause. The words have more bite to them than he’d intended.</p>
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  <p>Your face falters, and Javier feels a twinge of guilt at how clearly upset you are. He understands that the heat of the moment might have overtaken you in a way you hadn’t expected or necessarily wanted. But he can’t come to terms with the idea that a door might have been opened and then immediately slammed in his face again, a door that had been locked for so long with no sign of a key.</p>
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  <p>“It’s not that simple,” you try to argue, though the words sound more like a whisper of defeat. You turn away from him then, starting on your way to the front door.</p>
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  <p>“Well what can I do to make it easier for you?,” he asks, following right behind you.</p>
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  <p>You stop at the end of the hallway, just before you reach the foyer, then turn to face him again. Your lips are turned downward into a deep frown, and Javier finds his own expression mirroring yours.</p>
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  <p>“Let me go, Javier. <em>Please.”</em></p>
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  <p>He lets out a sigh, hanging his head for a moment as he accepts your words. When he looks up again, you’ve already managed to get to the door and pull on your shoes.</p>
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  <p>“Okay,” he whispers, but moves forward only to see you out the door. “Fine…”</p>
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  <p>You hold his gaze for just a few seconds longer, then open the front door and walk out of the house. Javier follows, standing in the open doorway and watching as you make your way down the road. You never turn back to look at him, and with every step you take, he feels that spark of hope in his chest fizzle out just a little more.</p>
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  <p>He stands there even long after you’ve disappeared from his eyeshot, trying to come to terms with everything that had transpired between the two of you over the last couple of hours. Javier chuckles bitterly, mentally berating himself. He was foolish to let himself consider a possible resolution. Of course you weren’t going to come back to him, not when the wounds of his betrayal had festered for so long in your heart. There’s no room for him anymore.</p>
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  <p>After some time, Javier finally turns and goes back into the house. He retrieves his glass and your mug from the living room, and he scowls at the piece of ceramic as he carries it to the kitchen sink. Instead of placing the whiskey glass in the sink to be cleaned, he returns to the liquor cabinet. He knows that his father will question him about it later, but for now he can’t bring himself to care. Having you in his arms again had brought him an unspeakable kind of happiness, and just like that, you’d taken it from him again.</p>
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  <p>Javier knows two ways of dealing with hurt like that. Whiskey seems like the better option.</p>
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  <p>—</p>
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  <p>Javier wakes the next morning to the sound of his father rustling around in the kitchen. Forcing his eyes open, he scowls at the red numbers on the digital alarm clock, telling of an hour much earlier than what he’d like to see. He lets out a huff of breath, pushing himself up and turning so that his feet hit the floor. Outside the window, the sun is just barely peeking up from beneath the horizon, leaving most of the world still washed in the deep blues and violets of dawn.</p>
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  <p>He rakes his hands through his hair, then rubs his palms roughly up and down his face as a means of rousing himself. Finally standing, he slips into the t-shirt he’d discarded the night before, then tugs on a pair of sweatpants to chase away the early morning chill.</p>
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  <p>His father is standing over the stove when Javier enters the kitchen, and the smell of frying bacon fills his nose. His stomach gives a low growl in response, a reminder that he hadn’t even bothered with dinner the night before. A couple more drinks and he’d been out. “Buenos días, Papá,” he greets quietly, taking the carton of orange juice from the refrigerator.</p>
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  <p>“Buenos días, mijo. ¿Cómo dormiste?,” Chucho replies, glancing up from the stove for just a moment. He then moves the bacon from the cast iron pan to a plate that sits nearby on the counter.</p>
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  <p>“Bien, Papá. How was the auction?,” Javier asks. He’s much more interested in keeping the topic of conversation focused away from him. He’s not ready to talk about what happened with you, not when his father might force him to consider the bitter reality that he’s lost you forever.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chucho turns the knob to shut off the gas, then takes the plate of bacon to the small kitchen table with the eggs that are already there. “The rain caused some problems, so I’ll have to go back in a couple of days. We’ll have to check the fences today. The river might have washed out some posts,” he says, taking a seat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Javier nods, bringing the carton of juice and two glasses over to the table, taking a seat across from his father. Wordlessly, he pours two generous glasses of orange juice, placing one next to Chucho’s plate. “Alright. I’ll get dressed and then we can go out there,” he says. He’s glad that there’s work to be done. Hopefully he’ll spend the day mostly distracted from yesterday’s interaction with you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chucho nods, and there’s a comfortable silence that settles over the two men as they eat. This isn’t an uncommon occurrence. In fact, it would be far more strange for a meal to progress with constant conversation. Javier supposes that he inherited his quiet, brooding nature from his father. Both are far more content with their thoughts than the spoken words of others.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That is, unless there’s a need for it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know she was here,” Chucho says, eyeing his son pointedly. Javier’s head snaps up, and he swears he can feel the color drain from his face. “You left her mug in the sink and her tea on the counter,” his father explains. He then takes a sip from his glass of juice, waiting for an answer.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Javier sighs, shaking his head. “No quiero hablar de eso. Por favor,” he replies. He pushes his empty plate back away from him, standing from his chair to take the plate and his empty cup to the sink. After rinsing his dishes, he stands motionless at the sink for a moment, hoping that his father won’t push the subject any further.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chucho is quiet, but finally gives a low hum of acknowledgement. “Alright, mijo,” he relents.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Javier lets out a barely audible sigh of relief, then turns around. “I’ll be right back, then we can check the fence,” he says, running his fingers through his hair before taking off back towards his bedroom.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>—</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After loading up the tools, wire, and a few replacement posts, Javier hops into the truck beside his father. Tension hangs in the silence that falls between the two men. Not a word is said the entire way to the riverbank.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sure enough, several fence posts have been displaced or washed out entirely when they arrive. Javier steps down from the truck, pulling on the thick work gloves his father gives him. He stands there for just a moment, watching the river flow. In the early morning light, it glitters like liquid gold. The serenity of untouched nature is a welcome change to the thoughts swirling around violently in his head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The tailgate of the truck comes down with a loud bang, and Javier is broken from his daze as his father calls out to him. “Are you helping me with this or not?,” he asks, and Javier turns around to see the older man shouldering one of the new fence posts. “I thought I was getting a partner.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He frowns and shakes his head. “Give me that, Pop,” he says, taking the post before his father can strain himself too much. Easily taking the weight, Javier hauls the post closer to the damaged section of fence, laying it down on the still-soaked ground to be put up later. “Porfiado,” he mutters to himself. He then goes to work, unloading the rest of the truck while his father takes the wire cutters to start taking down the fence.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In the rising Texas heat, it’s not long before Javier starts to work up a sweat. Once the old fencing is down and out of the way, he sits on the tailgate of the truck with his father, cracking open one of the beers they’d brought along with them. “¿Tienes que arreglar la cerca cada vez que hay tormenta?,” he asks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Alguien lo tiene que hacer,” Chucho replies, taking a long drink from his beer. He’s quiet then, and Javier can tell that there’s something on his mind. There’s a pensive look on his face, his eyes looking out at the river but not really seeing it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“¿Qué pasó, Papá?,” Javier asks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chucho releases a long exhale then, finally looking away from the river and back to his son. “Así es la vida, hijo. Sometimes a bad storm will come in and you’ll think it’s all beyond repair,” he says, and at this Javier’s brows furrow in confusion. He knows that once the new posts are up, the fence will be good as new. But he says nothing, allowing his father to continue.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But you can’t abandon it. It’s important that you fix it. Now, it’ll take some time and hard work, but eventually you learn and you rebuild. And hopefully this time it’s stronger than it was before,” Chucho continues, going silent once again. There’s a gleam in his eye, a knowing look that Javier understands well. There’s more to what his father is telling him than just the words that are being said. And it doesn’t take him long to see what he’s getting at. This isn’t about the fence. It’s about you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s out of my hands, Pop. I thought...I thought everything was gonna be okay. And then she turned around and left,” Javier explains. He knows it’s vague, but it’s still all that he can bear to give his father in the way of details.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chucho sighs softly, putting a gentle hand on Javier’s shoulder. “Like I said, it takes time. You’ve waited for her this long. You can wait a little longer,” he says. Javier wants to scoff at the words. He doesn’t understand how his father can have this much faith in what seems to be doomed already. Surely if you’d wanted things to go back to the way that they had once been, you wouldn’t have been so quick to leave. He just can’t imagine a scenario where your sudden departure ends the way he would like it to. He’s come to understand that sometimes when love is lost, there is no way to get it back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Javier takes another long drink from his beer. The can is empty much faster than he’s ready for it to be and he sighs, crushing and tossing it towards the back of the truck bed. “She’s not coming back, Pop,” he mutters, pushing himself off the edge of the tailgate. The new fence posts still need to be put up and wired, and the sooner they can get back to the air conditioning, the better.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chucho just shakes his head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>—</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The kiss haunts you for the next two days.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You spend every waking moment thinking about it, and even while you sleep, the feeling of his lips against yours permeates your dreams. Try as you might, you can’t escape the reality of what happened.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And no matter how many times you go through the motions, you can’t decide how you feel about it. It hadn’t been your intention to kiss Javier, or to come anywhere close to doing so. But it had happened anyway, and you’re left alone to piece together your thoughts and emotions like some impossible puzzle. Just when you think you’ve finally solved it, something else makes you doubt yourself, and you have to start all over.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re playing devil’s advocate against yourself. That’s a war you can’t win.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As the sun sets, painting the Laredo sky in brilliant scarlet and gold, you get into your car. You can’t stand to be cooped up in your apartment anymore, suffocating in your own inability to make a decision. It’s up to you and you know that. Javier knows better than to pursue you any further.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The old car sputters to life as you turn the key in the ignition, and you immediately turn the radio up, praying that somehow the music will be louder than your thoughts. You take in a deep breath, starting down the near-empty streets with no clear destination in mind. There’s enough gas in your tank to keep you going for a while. You intend to take full advantage of that.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As you cruise through the streets of town, you can’t help but be soothed just slightly by the atmosphere of it all. That’s the one thing that Laredo will always have that the big cities won’t. Places like San Antonio and Seattle had been all bustle and bright lights. Here, life is quiet, bathed in soft yellow street lights after the day has come to an end. This place has a soul, a beautiful conglomeration of the people that live there. There’s a reason that you always seem to gravitate back towards it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Eventually the roads lead you away from town, and the street lights fade to the silver glow of the moon above you. You turn the radio down, no longer fighting to quiet your thoughts. There’s still no answer to your perpetual question, but for the first time since you walked out on Javier, you feel some semblance of peace again. Just as the tires roll beneath you, you know that no matter what happens, somehow life will go on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You drive for a while, only coming to a stop when you reach the top of a hill that overlooks town. It’s the same hill where you and Javier spent the night of senior prom, more content to be alone with each other than to be subjected to the prying eyes of your classmates. Putting the car in park, you let out a huff of breath and lean back against your seat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s hard to believe that things were once that simple, that at one point there was a clear trajectory for your life with Javier. You wonder what your younger selves would think of all this, what became of the two of you. Surely they’d never believe it. Back then, you’d been inseparable, invincible to such a shattering blow. A mess like this was something you would have never been able to fathom on your own.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You wish that there was a clear answer written somewhere in the stars for you to read, some sign that could point you in the right direction. There’s a part of you that just wants to hit the road again, to keep driving until you land somewhere else to pitch your novel. It would be easier that way. Distance would ease your mind over time, just the same way it had when Javier had been in Colombia. Slowly, he would fade to some place far from conscious thought, packed away like the box of memories in your parents’ attic. You swore you wouldn’t run again, that you wouldn’t let him drive you away. You try to convince yourself that somehow this would be different. You’d be leaving because you wanted to, not because you felt like you had to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You sigh and shake your head. It’s still an escape plan even if you try to pretend that it’s not.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Trying to salvage what was lost doesn’t feel entirely right either. You could go back to Javier. You could slowly build your love back up to its former glory. But in your mind, that only feels like climbing a mountain only to never come down on the other side. All that work to make it there, to move on from what happened and live your life free from that torment, to prove to yourself that you could be okay without Javier in your life. Gone. Wasted.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But are you really doing a disservice to yourself if you still love him? Wouldn’t it be worse to let him go?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You swear the heavens are laughing at you as you contemplate it all. There’s no way to know for sure. So for now, you just sit there, watching as the soft lights in town go out one by one. Everyone has found their rest for the night. Everyone except you. You wish you could remember what it was like to not spend every waking moment plagued by this unwavering dilemma.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You shake your head, finally sitting up straight in your seat again and starting your car. Even sitting on top of that hill, the universe still fails to help you get any closer to a decision. Another day, you suppose.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You start back towards town, headed back to your apartment for the night to hopefully get some sleep. You’ve got work to do: manuscripts to edit and publishers to call. With any luck, you’ll get a response from someone in another state that will make it very easy for you to choose. At least then you’d have a valid reason for leaving. You’ll just have to pray that the next prospect won’t end the same way all the others have.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You roll slowly into town, coming to a stop at the single stoplight. Why the light has turned red when no one else is on the road is beyond you, but you stop anyway. You take in a deep breath, letting the soft tones of the radio wash over you for a moment.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But it’s then that the universe decides to taunt you further. It doesn’t take you more than a couple of seconds to recognize the tune, and then Stevie Nicks’ voice begins to float from the stereo, narrating your own dilemma to you. Mocking you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You laugh bitterly, shaking your head as you listen to the lyrics. It’s almost eerie to hear them, to feel the way that they speak to your soul. And you find yourself getting lost in the song, your attention no longer focused on getting through the light and back to your apartment. In fact, it turns green without you noticing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your expression is somber as you sit there, humming quietly to yourself. There is a heaviness in your heart, the deep, familiar ache of loss that you’ve grown to know very well over the past decade. You look back out at the intersection. A left will take you to your apartment, but if you keep going straight, the road will take you out of town again. To the ranch. To Javier.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>By the time the guitar fades out, you know what you have to do.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When the light cycles back to green, you step on the gas pedal, driving straight ahead with no hesitation. You know it’s late, but you have to do this now before you can convince yourself it’s the wrong decision to make. You have to tell him. He needs to know how you really feel.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The shock sets in as you pull into the driveway of the Peñas’ ranch house. You sit there for a moment as you try and process what it is that you’re doing. When you shake yourself out of your daze, you quickly cut the engine and turn off the headlights, not wanting to cause any more disturbance than necessary. Everything is silent now, save for your rapid, shallow breathing and the blood pounding behind your ears.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You open the door of your car, closing it as quietly as you possibly can, but as you look around, you finally notice that Chucho’s truck is gone again. This time, you hope that the older man is gone. You need Javier to be home.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Each step makes your heart pound harder. You’re just a few feet away from sealing your fate. You step up onto the porch, raising your fist to knock gently on the door. For just a split second, you almost turn around. There’s still part of you that wants to run, but you’ve come too far to let yourself be a coward at the last possible moment.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This is it. Everything you’ve been through has been leading up to this one moment. It’s a choice that you won’t be able to take back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But just as your knuckles connect with the wooden door, the porch light turns on and the door swings open.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Javier stands there, brows furrowed in confusion as he stares down at you. He glances back at your car, but doesn’t allow his gaze to linger there for long. “What are you doing here?,” he asks, looking back into your eyes, searching for some kind of answer before you even get a chance to speak. The longer he looks, the more his expression softens. “Are you alright?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You take in a shaky breath, letting it out as slowly as you can manage. “Yeah...Yeah I’m okay, Javi,” you reply quietly. Now as you look into his eyes, you have no idea what you’re going to say to him. Your answer only leaves him more confused, as you watch as the worry lines in his forehead deepen. And then a look of realization washes over his features. He takes a quick step back, like being so close to you had burned him. It’s your turn to be confused.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Just get it over with,” he says, his tone much more harsh than it had been just a minute ago.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You shake your head. “I don’t understa–”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I get it. It’s what I deserve. Just tell me that’s over so we can both move on from this shit. Maybe then I’ll finally get some decent fucking sleep,” he continues, growing more upset with every word. He rakes his hand through his hair. His agitation is almost palpable in the air.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You gently close the door behind you, then tentatively step closer to him. He immediately tenses at your proximity. “Javi, that’s not why I’m here,” you murmur.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Javier is still, watching your every move with keen eyes. But he doesn’t move away from you. “What do you mean?,” he asks, his volume matching your own.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You reach up slowly then, your hand trembling slightly as you cradle his cheek. “I’m done running, Javier. I shouldn’t have left the way that I did. I just...I didn’t know what else to do. But I know now that can’t lose you. If there’s a chance that things can go back to the way they were...then that’s a chance I want to take,” you tell him, the words rushing from your lips in your desperate need to be understood.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hesitates for a few moments, staring down at you in disbelief. But then you watch as his expression softens again. The whites of his eyes turn red as he processes your words.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Querida…,” he whispers, slowly wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to him. You can feel the tension bleeding out of him as he holds you to his chest, pressing his forehead gently against yours. You let out a soft breath, relaxing into his embrace.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m here,” you assure him, “I’m here.” You bring your other hand up to gently thread through his hair. He looks down into your eyes, and then his gaze falls to your lips, just the same as before you’d run out of him. This time, you don’t hesitate to close the remaining distance between you. You capture his lips between yours in a deep, longing kiss. All of the words you could not say instead pour from your lips in this manifestation of your love.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>“Mi corazón,”</em> you breathe into him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your words ignite something within Javier. A fervor and a passion he’d withheld the last time you had been this close to him. His fingers dig into your back as he attempts to bring you impossibly closer. He returns your kiss. It’s deeper, and from it seeps a hunger that stirs a fire within you too. You let him guide you through the halls. You don’t have to guess where he’s taking you, and you make no move to stop him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His lips never leave yours as he backs you into his bedroom. Even as he kicks the door shut, he remains connected to you. And you keep him close, your fingers twisting deeper into his hair, the soft curls that have grown out in the time that he’s been home.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s only after you’re lying with your head on his pillow that he separates from you. He hovers over you, one hand cradling your cheek, the other gently brushing against your ribs. “Is this what you want, mi amor?,” he asks softly, though even in the dark you can see the solemn look in his eyes and the way his jaw is set. He won’t move without your consent.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes, Javier,” you tell him. You don’t have to think twice about it. This is everything that you want. To be with him again this way is what sets it all in stone, and you’ve never been more ready to accept your fate.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s a natural progression from there. It’s easy. Familiar. Falling in love with Javier is like riding a bike. Even after so many years and everything that could have possibly kept you apart, it’s still a muscle memory forever ingrained in your soul. Every movement is slow and languid as you relearn each other’s bodies. Hands caress each other with the utmost tenderness. Mouths swallow each other’s sounds. It builds and it builds until you come together as one. As you both reach your peaks, you’re finally whole and complete. And then you come down from the high nestled in his arms, safe in his warmth.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neither of you try to hide the tears that slip silently down your cheeks as you lie there together. You take turns kissing them away, settling down into the mattress together as your breathing slowly evens out. Your fingers slip back into his hair, and he hooks an arm around you. You keep each other close even in the aftermath, unwilling to let each other go now that the rift has finally been mended.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Te quiero, mi corazón,” you whisper to him, pressing one last kiss to his lips before you close your eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Te quiero tanto, mi amor,” he murmurs against your lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sleep comes easily tonight. At last you’ve found peace. You both have.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>Spanish Translations</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Buenos días, Papá.” - <em>“Good morning, Dad.”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Buenos días, mijo. ¿Cómo dormiste?” - <em>“Good morning, my son. How did you sleep?”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Bien, Papá.” - <em>“Fine, Dad.”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No quiero hablar de eso. Por favor.” - <em>“I don’t want to talk about it. Please.”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Porfiado.” - <em>“Stubborn”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“¿Tienes que arreglar la cerca cada vez que hay tormenta?” - <em>“Do you have to fix the fence every time a storm hits?”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Alguien lo tiene que hacer.” - <em>“Someone has to do it.”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“¿Qué pasó, Papá?” - <em>“What’s wrong, Dad?”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Así es la vida, hijo.” - <em>“That’s life, son.”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mi Corazón - <em>My Heart (Nickname)</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mi Amor - <em>My Love (Nickname)</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Te quiero, mi corazón.” - <em>“I love you, my heart.”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Te quiero tanto, mi amor.” - <em>“I love you so much, my love.”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
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